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THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 







BOOKS by NORMA LORIMER 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 

12mo, cloth, $1.50 

An enthralling romance written round King 
Akhnaton’s secret treasure. 

THE GODS' CARNIVAL 12mo, cloth, $1.50 

“ The whole book stands out as something fresh 
and distinctive .” — Daily Telegraph. 

ON DESERT ALTARS 12mo, cloth, $1.50 

“ Here we have the soul of a woman laid bare. 

. . . The book will doubtless arouse much com- 
ment, criticism, and discussion — the fate of all 
books worth reading.” — World. 

A WIFE OUT OF EGYPT 12mo, cloth, $1.50 

” A singularly fascinating romance of modern 
Egypt.” — Lady*s Pictorial. 


THERE WAS A KING 
IN EGYPT 


BY 

NORMA LORIMER 

It 

AUTHOR OF 

“the gods’ carnival,” “a wife out of EGYPT,* 
“on desert ALTARS,” ETC., ETC. 



NEW YORK 

BRENTANO’S 

1919 



COPTRIGHT, 1918 

BY 

BRENTANO’S 




i 



PREFACE 


The monarch indicated in There was a Kmg m Egypt is 
Akhnaton, the heretic Pharaoh, first brought home to the 
English reader by the well known Egyptian archaeologist, 
Mr. Arthur Weigall. Akhnaton, or Amenhotep IV., has an 
interest for the whole world as the first Messiah. Like Our 
Lord, he was of Syrian parentage — on the mother’s side. 
Our interest in him is undying, because underlying his Sun- 
symbolism we have the first foreshadowings of the altruism 
of Christianity. 

The book is not directly devoted to Akhnaton. It is 
about a young English Egyptologist, who is excavating the 
/tomb of Akhnaton’s mother, in which the Pharaoh’s exhumed 
body found its final repose ; his sister ; and an Irish mystic, 
who copies the tomb-paintings excavated before their fresh- 
ness fades. Aton-worship and Mohammedanism have an 
almost equal fascination for this Irishman, and the romance 
is permeated with their mysticism. The prophecies of a 
Mohammedan saint who has attained the light by a life of 
abstinence and self-discipline, influence the current of the 
romance no less than the visions of the Pharaoh Messiah, 
whose pure religion threatened his country with disasters 
like the Russian revolution. 

For the historical facts I am indebted to the brilliant 
Akhnatoriy Pharaoh of Egypt,^ of Mr. Weigall, late Chief 
Inspector of Monuments in Upper Egypt. The character 
of the Egyptian Messiah has fascinated me ever since I be- 
gan to read Egyptian history, and Mr. Weigall writes with 
the grace and colour of a Pierre Loti. I have always used 

^ Published by Wm. Blackwood & Sons. 


VI 


PREFACE 


hi« translations of Akhnaton’s words, and very often his 
own words in describing Akhnaton. 

I take this opportunity of thanking Mr. Weigall for his 
ungrudging permission to quote from him, and I should 
like him to know that his book was the inspiration of There 
was a Kmg m Egypt. 

I must also acknowledge my indebtedness to Mr. Walter 
TyndalPs fine volume, Below the Cataracts ^ — he is equally 
successful as author and artist — for my description of the 
tomb of Queen Thiy. 

The teachings of the reformed Mohammedanism scat- 
tered through my book are derived from the propaganda 
works of Mirza Ghulam Ahmad, especially his Teachings 
of Islam. 

I trust that my readers will find the mysticism of the 
book not a clog upon the wheels of the romance of Exca- 
vation in Egypt, but Virgil’s ‘‘vital breeze.” 

Norma Lorimer. 

7, PiTcuLLEN Terrace, Perth, Scotland. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


FART I 

CHAPTER I 

Dawn held the world in stillness. In the vast stretches of 
barren hills and soft sands there was nothing living or stir- 
ring but the figure of an Englishman, standing at the door 
of his tent. 

At the hour of sunrise and sunset the East is its own. 
Every suggestion of Western influence and foreign inva- 
sion is wiped out. The going and the coming of the sun 
throws the land of the Pharaohs, the kingdom of Ra, the 
great Sun God, whose cradle was at Heliopolis, back to* the 
days when Egypt was the world ; to the days when the sun 
governed the religion of her people; to the days when civ- 
ilization had barely touched the Mediterranean and the 
world knew not Rome; back again to the days when the 
Nile, the Mother of Life, bordered by bands of fertile, 
food-giving land, had not as yet sheltered the infant Moses 
in her reeds. Dawn in Egypt is the dawn of civilization. 

Each dawn saw Michael Amory, wrapped in his thickest 
coat, standing outside his tent, watching and waiting for 
the glory of Egypt, for Ra, the Sun God, to appear above 
the horizon of the desert. 

To stand alone, nerve-tense and oppressed by the sound- 
less sands, and surrounded by the Theban Hills, in whose 
bosoms lie the eternal remains of the world’s first kings, 
drew him so strongly that, tired as he might be with his 
previous day’s work, he seldom slept later than the hour 
which links us with the day that is past and the morrow 
which holds the magic of the future. 

For that half-hour only his higher self was conscious of 

1 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


existence, and it was infinitely nearer to God than he was 
aware of. The silence of the desert and its simplicity, 
which to the complex mind of Western man is so mysteri- 
ous, banished all material thoughts and even the conscious- 
ness of his own body, and left him a naked soul, alone in 
the world, encompassed with Divinity, a world whose hills 
and rolling sands had known neither labour nor strife, nor 
the despotism of kings. 

For the dead Pharaohs, lying in their tombs under the 
hills, in the grandest monuments ever wrought by the van- 
ity of man, were forgotten. His long days of labour in 
their depths might never have been. Man and his place 
in the universe were wiped out. 

The cold was intense. Michael shivered and turned up 
the collar of his coat. A faint light had appeared on the 
horizon, a pale streak like a silver thread, which widened 
and widened until it spread into the higher heavens; with 
its spreading the indefinite forms of moving figures ap- 
peared — ghostly figures of dawn. 

Michael knew that they would appear; he knew that, 
just as soon as the streak of light grew in width from a 
faint thread to a wider band, he would see them, dignified, 
stately figures, like white-robed priests, walking desert- 
wards from the horizon to his tent. 

Although he had seen the same figures every morning for 
some months, he was not tired of watching them. It always 
gave him pleasure to recall how vividly they had at first 
reminded him of the pictures, familiar to him as a boy, of 
the Wise Men following the star in the east. But these 
were not wise men coming to pay homage or bring pres^ents 
to the Galilean Babe who came to be called the Prince of 
Peace ; they were the Mohammedan workmen who were em- 
ployed by the Exploration School to which Michael Amory 
had attached himself ; their labour was confined to the 
rougher preliminary digging and the clearing away of the 
accumulation of sand and debris on sites which had been 
selected for excavation. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


O 


As the dawn slipped back and counted itself with the 
years that are spent and the first yellow gleam appeared in 
the sky, Michael saw the tall figures go down on their knees 
land press their foreheads to the sand. It was their third 
prayer of the day: devout Mohammedans begin their new 
day at sunset ; their second prayer is at nightfall, when it 
is quite dark ; their third is at daybreak. 

Michael knew that the moment el isfirary or the first yel- 
low glow, appeared in the heavens, the white figures would 
turn to the east and perform their subh^ or daybreak devo- 
tion. He knew that it would be finished before the golden 
globe appeared above the rim of the desert, for did not the 
Prophet counsel his people not to pray exactly at sunrise 
or sunset or at noon, because they might be confounded 
with the infidels who worshipped the sun.? Yet it gave him 
a fresh thrill each morning to watch these desert worship- 
pers prostrate themselves in undoubting faith before their 
omnipotent God. In the untrodden desert, with its ming- 
ling of sky and sand, their perfect trust and faith in Allah 
seemed a convincing and evident belief. At such times he 
forgot that these same men were the children of Supersti- 
tion and that one and all of them were held in the bondage 
of genii. He also forgot that their performance of five 
prayers a day, which is the number prescribed for the de- 
vout, did not necessarily make them men of honour. A 
perfect trust in Allah gives a bad man a long rope. 

As the figures drew nearer and the golden globe rested 
for one moment on the sands of the desert, for that one 
brief moment before its rays broke into the amazing splen- 
dour which is Egypt’s, the world became less mysterious,* 
more familiar. Things relating to the day’s work forced 
themselves upon Michael’s mind. His bath and breakfast 
and many other practical things began to usurp his 
thoughts, while the barking of dogs, the movement in 
the hut of the ^^boys,” brought him back to the common, 
everyday li^e of the excavating camp. 

While he was dressing he remembered that Freddy 


4 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


Lampton’s sister was to arrive that day. For a moment 
or two his mind was completely usurped with a vision of 
what the girl would be like. Subconsciously his manhood 
quickened. 

Yet the very idea of a woman intruding herself upon 
their strange and exquisitely intellectual life — a life made 
healthy by the long hours of physical labour in the various 
portions of the excavation — slightly annoyed him. 

Fleeting pictures of Lampton as a girl rose and faded 
before his eyes as he hurriedly shaved himself, slipped into 
his flannels and adjusted his necktie as punctiliously as 
though he were going to a tennis-party at Mena House 
Hotel. It is typical of Englishmen in the East that the 
young men in the excavating camps, and especially in the 
one to which Michael belonged, showed as much regard 
for their personal appearance and nicety of dress, even 
when their day’s work was to be done in the bowels of the 
earth, down a shaft as deep as a mine, as they did in the 
golden days of their life at Oxford or Cambridge. Mi- 
chael Amory was perhaps as a rule the least careful of the 
digging party, because he was by temperament a dreamer ; 
and his friend, Freddy Lampton, knew that if he was not 
careful and on his guard he would become ‘^a slacker.” 
Freddy, in spite of his acknowledged ability as a scholar 
and Egyptologist, was practical and conventional in his 
methods and mode of living. Michael Amory had fits of 
exactness and fits of what he considered conventionality; 
he had also his fits of slackness, days in which Freddy 
Lampton would let his blue eyes rest on his carelessly-tied 
‘necktie, or on his shoelaces, which were an offence to his 
eyes. Freddy’s exquisite delicacy of touch and his eyes, 
which were trained to a fine pitch of exactitude for minute 
detail, two characteristics essential for his work as an exca- 
vator, made it painful for him to be in the company of 
anyone who offended his sense of personal nicety. 

But visions of Lampton’s sister were to be dismissed. 
She would be good-looking, of course, because Freddy’s 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


6 


sister could scarcely be anything else; his blue eyes, clear 
colouring and sunlit hair would be beautiful in a girl. But 
Michael Amory had no desire to encourage any thoughts 
which gave woman a place in his mind. The very visualiz- 
ing of Lampton as a girl, comical as it had been, had forced 
before his eyes another face and another form which he 
had been striving to forget. Whenever he was idle, and 
too often when he was busy over some piece of work which 
ought to have engrossed his entire thoughts, her haunting 
charm and beauty would suddenly become more real and 
vivid than the bright blues and greens and reds of the 
pigments on the white walls of the tomb upon which he 
was at work. With well-practised mind-control he had 
learned to pull down a blind on her vision, to blot it out 
from his thoughts. On this morning, when he was hurry- 
ing through his dressing so as to be in time for breakfast, 
always a matter of difficulty with him, even though he had 
many hours in which to put on his few clothes, he shrank 
from thinking about the arrival of the girl who was com- 
ing to live with her brother in this strange valley, which 
had been the underground cemetery for countless centuries 
of the tomb-builders of Egypt. 

When he was almost dressed and the sun was high in the 
heavens and its power was beginning to warm the night- 
chilled valley, a stone was flung into his tent. ^‘Come out, 
you lazy beggar! The coffee’s getting cold.” 

It was Lampton’s voice and Lampton’s nicety of aim. 
He had not been up since dawn ; his boy had only brought 
him his cup of early tea half an hour ago, yet he was bathed 
and shaved and as neatly dressed as the most fastidious 
woman could desire. 

^^Right-ho!” Michael shouted back. ‘‘Don’t wait for 
me.” 

“I should jolly well think I won’t! Who’d be such an 
ass.?^” There was the best of human fellowship in Freddy’s 
voice, but he knew his friend too well to risk the chance of 
spoiling his coffee by waiting for him. 


6 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


After stretching out his arms and opening his lungs to 
the fresh dry air of the newborn day, Freddy turned into 
the dining-room. The mess-room and common sitting-room 
of the camp was in a wooden hut. Lampton’s bedroom 
!was at the back of it, as was also the one which had been 
set apart for his sister; it by right belonged to the Over- 
seer-General and Controller of the Excavations and Monu- 
ments of Upper Egypt. Margaret Lampton was to use 
it and her brother was to evacuate his room when the over- 
seer announced that he was coming to pay one of his visits 
of inspection to the camp. 

Michael Amory lived in a tent, as did one or two other 
Englishmen who in busy and prosperous years helped in the 
work of excavating. At the present moment they were 
slack, which meant that funds were low and there was no 
fine work to be done which necessitated the individual spade 
and pick work of European Egyptologists. A new site 
was being cleared, so that the work had consisted for some 
time of the first clearing away of sand and stones and the 
debris which had collected during the thousands of years 
that had passed since the tomb which Freddy hoped to dis- 
cover had been carved in the bowels of the earth, and the 
Pharaoh had been laid to rest in it. At such times there 
was little work for experts to do, so the camp shrank and 
left Lampton, who was the head of it, and one of Eng- 
land’s finest Egyptologists, alone with his native workmen. 

He had allowed his old Oxford chum, Michael Amory, to 
join him on condition that he put in so many hours’ work 
every day in connection with the excavations. Michael’s 
stipulated work, the work which he had undertaken to do, 
was the making of exact copies of the mural paintings and 
decorations, such as Lampton required, and to help in the 
evenings to clean and sort and arrange the small objects 
which the workmen found each day. In the debris they 
often found amulets and small earthenware vases and mi- 
nute pieces of broken pottery, the very smallest of which 
suggested theories as regards the period and history of 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


7 


the monument. The texture of the glaze used, or the na- 
ture of the pottery itself, the small remnant of decoration 
on them, or the trademark on the broken base of a vase, 
all were valuable links in the chain of history, which is un- 
folding itself to the eager eyes of Egyptian exploration 
schools. 

When Michael at last appeared, Freddy looked up from 
his bacon and eggs. say, Margaret comes to-night.’’ 

«Yes, I know.” 

Freddy raised his blue eyes and gave Michael one of his 
quick glances. ‘^Remembered, did you.^^” 

“Yes — ^the fact suddenly came into my head when I was 
shaving. I say, what are you going to do with her.? 
Won’t she be awfully bored.?” 

“Margaret doesn’t know what the word bored means. 
Give her enough freedom and lots of sunshine — ^that’s all 
she wants.” 

“Sounds the right sort.” 

“One of the best — old Margaret’s all right!” 

“Is she like you in appearance?” 

“Good Lord, no!” 

Michael’s enthusiasm was damped. He wanted her to 
be like Freddy, to have his short, straight nose and his 
strong, rounded chin and beautiful mouth. For his looks 
were wasted on a man ; Michael wanted to see them repeated 
and softened in a girl. As his eyes rested contemplatingly 
on his companion’s bent head and youthfully-lean figure, 
he began to visualize a very plain, dowdy sister. The 
“Good Lord, no!” probably meant that although Freddy 
was not the least vain of his own extraordinary good looks, 
he could not help exclaiming at the idea of his dowdy sis- 
ter being considered like him. 

Michael had never seen her, because Freddy and Mar- 
garet had been left orphans when they were little children. 
They had been adopted by different relatives, so that Mi- 
chael had never had the opportunity of meeting his friend’s 


8 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


sister while they were together at Oxford or when he visited 
Freddy in his uncle’s home. 

“Pass the marmalade!” said Freddy. “And I say, old 
chap, I wish you’d go and meet Margaret!” 

Their eyes met as Michael handed him the marmalade, 
which was the one thing in the world which Lampton said 
he could not live without. 

“Meet your sister?” Michael said. “I will, if you can’t, 
but where ? — and won’t she expect you ?” 

“She ought to be on the ferry at five o’clock — I’ve made 
all the other arrangements, but I do wish you would meet 
her there and bring her up the valley. I simply can’t, 
and Margaret knows that she is only allowed to come here 
on condition that her visit makes no earthly difference to 
my work. I daren’t leave the men alone to-day — ^there’s 
too much lying about. We are getting pretty ‘hot’ and 
they know it.” 

Michael looked up eagerly. “By Jove, is that so?” 

“Getting hot” was expressive of getting close to a 
“find.” It was the old saying which they had used as 
children when they played hide-and-seek. 

“Yes, I think we are on the right track and I want to get 
ahead, so if you will go down to the ferry and fetch her 
up here I’ll be awfully obliged to you.” 

“Right you are, old chap. I’ll be there at five o’clock, 
and if she’s not punctual I’ll do a bit of sketching. You’re 
sure everything else will be all right ?” 

“I don’t think she’ll be late, because she is to be in Luxor 
by eleven o’clock. She is to rest there until it gets cooler 
and Abdul is to bring her over the river from the hotel. 
The donkeys will be at the ferry to meet her. Mohammed 
is very anxious for her to ride his camel” (Mohammed was 
the sheikh of the district) ; “he thinks it more proper and 
fitting for my sister to make her entry into his district on 
a camel, but I don’t feel certain that Margaret would ap- 
preciate the honour. He is keen to ‘do her proud.’ ” 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 9 

^^Good old Mohammed !” Michael said. has a great 

sense of dignity and convention.” 

“And of hospitality,” Lampton said. “He never forgets 
that as the sheikh of the district he is its host as well.” 

That was all that was said about Margaret’s arrival. 
The two men lapsed into silence until breakfast was over. 
If they had been two women discussing the coming of a 
man in their midst, there might have been more to say on 
the subject. In silence Freddy lit his cigarette and wan- 
dered into Margaret’s room. It was as bare and plainly 
furnished as a convent cell or a room in a small log-hut in 
a frontier-camp in Canada — just the necessary bed and 
table, a washstand and one chair. It was scrupulously 
clean, and the white mosquito-curtain, which was suspended 
from the roof and dropped over the little iron bed like a 
bride’s veil, gave the room a pleasant virginal atmosphere. 

Freddy came back to the sitting-room, evidently satis- 
fied. His quick eye had noticed that the “boy” had carried 
out his orders. 

“Meg’s an awful girl for books,” He said, as He carried 
off a bundle of yellow-paper-bound French novels and one 
or two volumes of the Temple Classics to her room. 

‘^She’d better begin on this,” he said, as he returned in 
search of still more. “She can’t do better” — he lifted up 
the weighty tome of Maspero’s Dawn of Civilization. 

“A bit dry, isn’t it, for a beginner 

“Not for Meg,” Freddy said. “She can tackle pretty 
stiff stuff. At college she used to suck the guts out of a 
book like a weasel sucking blood from a rabbit.” 

“Blue stocking !” Michael said to himself. He abhorred 
the type of ardent, eager, studious woman with whom he 
had come in contact during his university life. “Able and 
abominable,” he called them. 

In less than ten minutes the two companions had sepa- 
rated; the one, with his paint-box and camp-stool in his 
hand, made his way to the tomb where he was copying with 
delicate and extraordinary exactitude the exquisite figures 


10 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


and heads painted on the walls and pillars of the vast build- 
ing ; the other directed his steps to the site where the band 
of native excavators was already at work. 

What a strange sight it presented in the brilliant morn- 
ing sunshine ! To the untutored eye nothing more or less 
than a vast rubbish-heap of sand and stones and broken 
rocks, with here and there patches of sparsely-clad natives 
working away with pickaxes and the tall figure of a white- 
robed gaphir, standing on a hillock of sand, watching them 
with unremitting care. On the sides of the vast ashpits long 
lines of ^^boys,” toiling like ants up steep inclines, were car- 
rying rush-baskets full of rubbish on their shoulders. 

Yet these ignorant fellahin were playing their part, and 
an indispensable one, in laying bare to modern eyes the his- 
tory of the world’s first civilization. This vast rubbish- 
heap, where men with pickaxes and boys with baskets, full 
of the dust and sand of ages, toiled from dawn until sun- 
set, would in the course of time yield perhaps to the Egyp- 
tologist one of the long-looked-for links in the lost centuries 
of Egypt’s story, or be transformed into a wonderful pic- 
ture-gallery of Egyptian art. 

Nothing could look less inviting, less interesting, as 
Freddy approached it, for as yet there was little or nothing 
for the untutored eye to see but the debris of familiar desert 
rubbish. But Freddy Lampton knew otherwise. Only yes- 
terday the most experienced of the workmen had struck 
something hard, something which told him that they had 
finished with loose sand and broken rocks and had struck 
the ancient handiwork of man. 

The site chosen had been a mere conjecture on Freddy 
Lampton’s part, a conjecture guided by scientific knowl- 
edge and careful research. He felt convinced that the tomb 
which they were looking for was close to the spot where they 
were working. Indications such as the excavator looks for 
had decided him to begin work on the site. The discovery 
yesterday had been nothing more or less than the first indi- 
cation of a narrow flight of steps, cut in the virgin desert 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


11 


rock, a stairway probably built by the tomb-builders for the 
use of the workmen, in order to carry away baskets of sand 
and rubbish without slipping. 

The moment that the expert workman had come across 
this staircase, they had suspended work until “EfFendi” had 
been sent for and found. Under his eye and partly by his 
own pickaxe, the little flight of embryo steps, with a very 
steep gradient, had been laid bare. In the vast expanse 
which the work covered, it seemed a very small thing, but 
the greatest underground temples — for the tombs are veri- 
table temples — of Egypt, and some of the most wonderful 
of her monuments, have been discovered by far fainter clues. 
The little staircase, about twenty feet below the surface of 
the sand, was enough to fill the young Englishman’s heart 
with hope. He had come upon man’s handiwork — no doubt 
they would soon come upon more important masonry. 

When all the workmen had saluted the Effendi with re- 
spectful salaams and returned to their common toil, Freddy 
Lampton addressed the native overseer. He was enveloped 
in a white woollen hooded cloak, for the heat of the day had 
not yet begun ; he also wore a fine turban ; while the fellahin 
who did the roughest work wore only white skull-caps and 
cotton drawers to their knees and full shirts of blue or white 
cotton, open from the neck to the waist. A few of the bet- 
ter-paid older men wore turbans of cheap white muslin, 
wrapped round brown felt skull caps, or fezes. The carriers 
of rubbish, who received the smallest pay of any, dispensed 
with the drawers as well as with the turban. In the sunlight 
their one garment, a blue or white shirt, stood out against 
the yellow sand as they wound their way in Indian file from 
the low level of the excavation to the place in the desert 
where they threw down their burdens. 

The gaphir led his master a few steps from where the 
staircase had been excavated the day before and then bade 
him look down. Freddy’s quick eye detected a horizontal 
line of masonry, the beginning of a strongly-built wall. 
The men had unearthed it that morning. It was only a nar- 


12 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


row strip, but it would have been against the strictest rules 
to have excavated more without Informing the ^^Effendi.” 

The gaphir, a splendid man and very reliable, adored his 
enthusiastic English master, whose good looks and well-bred, 
unfailing courtesy of speech alone would have made his per- 
sonality irresistible to the Arab. Added to his good looks 
and to his manner of ‘^one who is born to be obeyed,” Fred- 
dy had courage and great ability and — best of all in the 
gaphir^s eyes — a silent respect for the teachings of the 
Prophet. -^1 

After an inspection of the various points of excavation 
and a word of greeting here and there had been passed with 
upper workmen, those who had showed an intelligent inter- 
est in their work, Freddy returned to the exciting spot and 
with two or three men who had ^‘fingers” and a ‘‘sense” of 
things, began his morning’s picking. 

While he worked away with youthful energy and an al- 
most inspired intelligence, he could hear the toilers with the 
rubbish-baskets singing their monotonous chants. The word 
“Allah, Allah” came repeatedly to his ears. He had grown 
so accustomed to the words of their chants that he followed 
them subconsciously; the words “Allah, Lord of Kindness, 
Giver of Ease,” rang out with monotonous persistence. Al- 
lah was to ease their burdens; Allah was to moisten their 
dry lips ; the “Lord of the Worlds” was to hasten the time 
when the poor man might sit in the shade and smell the 
sweet scents of paradise and listen to the sound of running 
waters. 

They chanted verses from the Koran as Jack Tars sing 
sea songs. In Mohammedan lands the song of Allah never 
dies. 

Only occasionally Freddy heard the quaint words of some 
popular love-song, coming from the lips of one of the high- 
er-class Arab workmen, a song as old as their tales of The 
Thousand and One Nights. One was drifting to his half- 
conscious ears at the moment; he was familiar with ever}^ 
word of it. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


13 


‘^A lover says to his dove, ^Send me your wings for a day.’ 
The dove replied, ^The affair is vain.’ I said, ‘Some other 
day, that I may soar through the sky and see the face of 
the beloved ; I shall obtain love enough for a year and will 
return, O dove, in a day.’ The night ! The night ! O those 
sweet hands ! Gather of the dewy peach ! Whence were ye, 
and whence were we, when ye ensnared us 

The Arab who was singing it was considered quite a musi- 
cian amongst his fellow-workmen. He had earned his living 
for some years by singing love-songs on the small boats 
which drift up and down the Nile and in the cafes in Luxor. 
To English ears his talents as a singer would not have been 
recognized; the particular qualities which ensured the ap- 
proval of his native audience would have caused much laugh- 
ter in an English music-hall. Freddy Lampton, who knew 
something of Arab music, was able to recognize the singer’s 
talents, but he was not near enough to hear the grunts of 
intense satisfaction and longing which the song was calling 
forth from the blue-shirted fellahin. 

And so the hours of the morning wore on, until the sun 
was too powerful to allow even the natives to work, and 
Freddy Lampton wandered off to the tomb in which his 
friend was painting. The fellahin instantly untied the bun- 
dles which held their simple food and began their midday 
meal. Many of them prayed before eating ; many of them 
did not. 

When the meal was eaten, each man sought some vestige 
of shade, behind a mound of rock or an ash-heap of debris, 
or in the excavated channels of the site ; there with full stom- 
ach and contented mind he would lay himself down to sleep, 
amid the heap of ruins which thousands of years ago had 
been the field of vast numbers of toilers, such as were he and 
his fellow-toilers, slaving for the glorification of an absolute 
monarch, whose kingdom was the civilized world. He cared 
not one jot nor tittle for what he had uncovered or what 
secrets the valley or hills had hidden from men for count- 
less centuries. Filling baskets full of rubbish was his work. 


14 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


his method of earning a living, and it mattered nothing to 
him whether the rubbish was culled from the golden sand of 
the most wonderful valley in the world, or thrown out of the 
filthy ashbins in the native city of Cairo. Toil was all one 
thing to him; it had no interest, it suggested no varieties. 
Allah had willed it. The clear blue sky and the sunlit hills, 
with their tombs and tombs and endless tombs stretching 
further and further into the western valley, they, too, were 
Allah’s will, as were the dark, evil-smelling streets of the 
city, with their noise and the crowding of human and ani- 
mal beasts of burden. 

As Freddy approached Michael Amory a look of satisfac- 
tion spread over his face. ‘‘Mike,” as he called him, was so 
busily engrossed in his work that he did not look up. He 
was making a delicate and extraordinarily exact reproduc- 
tion on paper of a figure of an Egyptian King making 
offerings to an enthroned Osiris. No other artist had ever 
done the same work with his delicacy of touch and exact- 
ness of detail. The picture on his easel looked as if he had 
cut a square block out of the polished limestone which held 
the tinted relief of the King making the offering to the 
god, and set it upon his easel. 

Freddy was proud of Michael and not a little surprised at 
the rapidity with which he had grasped the nature of his 
excavation work, which was not only the opening up of 
fresh monuments for the pleasure of the public, but the 
search after missing links and the verifying of well-founded 
conjectures. He knew that Michael had read a fair amount 
of Egyptian history, that he had specialized in one period, 
and that he had studied, in his own fashion, something of 
the mythology of ancient Egypt, but he was quite unpre- 
pared for the “sense” of the more serious part of the work 
iwhich he had shown. 

Besides which, Freddy knew more than Michael thought 
he did of the new distraction which had disturbed his mind. 

About once in ten days Freddy found it almost necessary 
to go to Assuan or Luxor and there throw himself heart and 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


15 


soul into the festivities of the foreign hotel society. For one 
night and half a day he played tennis and danced and was 
young again. These periodical outings and his private 
hobbies kept his mind and nerves well balanced. At his age 
it was scarcely healthy for a sport-loving, normal English- 
man to spend his days and nights all alone, in the silent 
valley in the hills, his only companions the mummies of 
Pharaohs and the bones unearthed from subterranean tombs. 
But Freddy slept as happily and as soundly with mummies 
in his room and ancient skuUs below his bed as he did in the 
modern, conventional bedroom of the big hotel at Assuan. 

Michael had accompanied him to these dances, and Fred- 
dy had noticed that on each occasion he was very much en- 
grossed by the company of an Englishwoman of whom he 
had heard a good deal that was ugly and unpleasant. He 
had long ago ceased to pay any attention to the scandals 
which were related to him each season about the English 
and American women who came to Egypt for the sake of 
the climate and for its hotel-society — ugly stories, generally 
greatly exaggerated, but often with a foundation of un- 
savoury truth in them. The sands of Egypt breed scan- 
dals as quickly as the climate degenerates the morals of 
shallow-minded tourists. But this woman Freddy knew to 
be as dangerous as she was charming ; and he also knew the 
enthusiastic nature of Michael and how it was temperament- 
al with him to place all women on pedestals and worship 
them as pure, high beings, far above mere men. Fallen idols 
never shattered his belief ; they were simply forgotten. 

Since Michael had met the beautiful Mrs. Mervill, Freddy 
had noticed that he had fits of abstraction, and that instead 
of working overtime, as was his habit, he was now as prompt 
as the fellahin to ^^down tools” at the precise moment. 

Freddy ‘‘had no use” for the woman. His practical mind 
had summed her up at a glance. But he was afraid that his 
friend might drift into a very undesirable friendship with 
her. She would enjoy his simplicity, for he seemed to have 
been born without guile, while his intellectual fascination 


IG THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 

was not to be denied. Michael was generous, impetuous and 
reckless. 

‘T’m not going to disturb you,” Freddy said. ‘We’ll 
meet at lunch.” 

“Right-ho!” Michael said. “I’ve almost finished.” 

“Looks as if you’d blown the thing on to the paper this 
time,” Freddy said. “Gad, it’s topping !” 

Michael said nothing, but he glowed inwardly. A word 
of enthusiastic praise from Freddy was worth all his morn- 
ing’s toil in the breathless, stuffy tomb-chamber of the Pha- 
raoh whose embalmed remains it contained. 

Freddy returned to his hut and flung himself down in a 
cane lounge-chair in as cool a spot as he could find. He 
picked up a French novel and lit a cigarette. 

Lying there, in his white flannels, reading Marie Claire^ 
who would have thought that he was one of the most able 
Egyptologists of the day, of the younger school, or that he 
controlled so important a section of the English School of 
Archaeology in Egypt.? 

Meanwhile the simple meal was being laid with a neatness 
and convention which was a striking contrast to the wooden 
hut and scarcity of furniture in the room. The Arab who 
was setting the table was a perfect parlourmaid, a product 
of Freddy’s teaching. The only thing Freddy was proud 
of was his ability to train and make good servants. Mo- 
hammed Ali’s table-waiting really pleased him. He thought 
Meg would approve of him. He was an intelligent lad and 
proud of his English master, who seemed to think that tell- 
ing a lie for the sake of being polite or kind was really a 
sin. In fact, the Effendi was very rarely cross, except when 
Mohammed forgot and told a lie. Sometimes it was very 
hard to tell the truth, when a lie would, he knew, make his 
master happy. While he set the table he felt his master’s 
eyes were on him, even though he was reading a love story 
which was so beautiful that he had seen, or thought he had 
seen, tears in the eyes of Effendi Amory, when he was read- 
ing it the night before. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


17 


Freddy was not finding the beautiful story of the French- 
woman so interesting as Mohammed Ali imagined. He had 
allowed the days to pass, with all their engrossing interest, 
without giving much thought to Margaret’s coming or what 
she would do with herself, or how her presence would affect 
their daily life. 

Now in a few hours she would be with them. This was, in 
fact, his last meal alone with Mike. He had never bothered 
about the matter because Meg was such a good sort and so 
jolly well able to amuse and look after herself. The days 
had just passed, and now she was coming, Meg, who was his 
best friend in the whole world, Meg, who in his eyes had the 
mind of a boy and the sympathy of a woman. 


CHAPTER II 

At five o’clock Michael Amory, true to his word, was down 
at the ferry, awaiting the arrival of Margaret Lampton. 
The ferry-boat was pulling across- the Nile; he would soon 
be able to distinguish her. In all probability no other Eng- 
lishwoman would be crossing to the western bank of the 
j"iver at so late an hour. Tourists who came to visit the 
Colossi of Memnon, whose song to the dawn never dies, or 
to ^^do” the ruins of the Hundred-Gated city of Thebes, 
came much earlier in the day. 

While the boat was drifting slowly across, Michael’s eyes 
rested lovingly on his surroundings. If the girl was appre- 
ciative of Nile scenery, how greatly it must be impressing 
her! 

Boats, like white birds with big crossed wings, flew past 
him on the pale blue river. Heavy, flat-bottomed barges, 
coming up from the pottery factories, laden with jars which 
were to be used for the building of native houses, drifted 
past, with their well-stacked, squarely-built cargoes piled 
high like stacks of grain. One barge, with a wide brown 

2 


18 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


sail, was full of fresh green melons. Across the river, on 
the opposite bank, bands of women, enveloped in black and 
walking in Indian file on the yellow sands, carrying water- 
jars on their heads, were wending their way to their mud 
villages. The gleam of their metal anklets caught the sun- 
light. 

But the ferry-boat was drawing close to the bank; the 
next minute he would be able to distinguish Freddy’s sister, 
with Abdul in attendance. The other passengers, with na- 
tive politeness, were already making way for the English 
Sitt and her servant to go ashore. 

Michael hurried forward to greet her. Margaret’s blue 
veil hid her features until he was quite close to her. 

‘T’m Michael Amory, I live with your brother,” Michael 
said. ‘T have come to bring you to his camp. He was too 
busy, or he would have been here himself — he asked me to 
apologize to you.” 

Margaret’s long firm fingers gave Michael’s outstretched 
hand a grateful grasp. Michael, whose sensibilities were 
very near the surface, lost nothing of the girl’s meaning. 
A feeling of relief soothed his anxiety. 

“How awfully kind of you to come !” she said. “I knew 
Freddy would be busy, digging up something that was 
once somebody, four thousand years ago.” 

“That’s about it,” Michael said. “As I could be spared 
and he couldn’t, he asked me to look to your arrival and 
bring you to the camp.” 

Abdul had hurried on to see that the donkeys were prop- 
erly harnessed and all in good order for the long ride across 
the plain and through the immortal valley. 

“Are you excavating too.?” Margaret asked. 

“I’m allowed to do a little ‘picking’ under your brother’s 
eyes, but my real job is painting. I’m only dabbling in 
V archaeology as yet.” 

“Painting in connection with his School of Excavation 

“Yes. Sometimes it is necessary to make almost instant 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 19 

copies of the excavated paintings, while the colours are fresh 
and the text legible.” 

“Isn’t it all awfully interesting.^” the girl asked. “I feel 
almost afraid to come in amongst you, for I know literally 
nothing about Egyptology. I’ve only once been in the 
Egyptian section of the British Museum, and that’s the sum 
total of my knowledge.” 

“You will have to learn. Your brother put a huge tome 
of Maspero’s The Dawn of Civilization in your room this 
morning; he means you to start right away.” 

“Good old Freddy !” Margaret said, and as she smiled, 
Michael for the first time saw her likeness to her brother ; it 
had escaped him before, because Freddy was very fair and 
Margaret was duskily dark. He could see that even through 
her blue veil. When she smiled and showed the same sharp- 
looking, well-formed teeth, as white as porcelain, Michael 
knew that if the girl had only been fair instead of dark, she 
would be almost the exact duplicate of her brother. But the 
expression of her grey-brown eyes was different; they were 
steadfast, calm eyes, which moved more slowly; they were 
softer than her brother’s. 

This Michael could scarcely see, screened as she was by 
her veil. But her firm handshake and the long unflinching 
gaze of her “How do you do.^” told him why Freddy always 
spoke of his sister in tones which implied that she was as re- 
liable as a man and a “topping pal.” 

They had reached the spot where the donkeys were wait- 
ing for them. Margaret’s was a fine, well-bred animal, 
called Sappho, with a skin as smooth as a white suede glove ; 
it stood almost as high as a mule. Her saddle, too, was a 
new one, and well-fitting — Freddy had seen to that. The 
old Sheikh, who was turbaned and robed after the manner 
of Moses or Aaron, was presented to her. His pale grey 
camel was waiting for him at a little distance from the don- 
keys. It looked very dignified, with its white sheepskin " 
flung over the saddle and its fine assortment of charms. Lit- 
tle tufts of thick hair had been left on its thighs and at its 


20 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


knees and neck ; the artist who had clipped it had evidently 
admired the fancy shaving of some resplendent French 
poodle. 

Margaret felt oddly important and very shy. Such a 
cavalcade seemed to have come to meet her. Her attempts 
at polite rejoinders to the old Sheikh’s graceful and flatter- 
ing speeches of welcome had all to be passed through Abdul, 
who probably delivered them in a more gracious form than 
Margaret w^as capable of expressing them. Abdul was quite 
accustomed to the abrupt and mannerless ways of the for- 
eigners and to their crude speech; he knew that it meant 
no offence nor indicated any lack of gratitude or gracious- 
ness. 

The Sheikh expressed his willingness to put his camel at 
Margaret’s disposal, but as her brother had told him that 
the honourable Sitt would probably prefer to ride a donkey, 
all he could do was to again assure her that it would bestow 
honour on him if she would ride it, or in the future make use 
of it whenever she felt disposed. That is what Margaret 
made out of the endless, elaborate speeches which were trans- 
lated to her. 

At last they were all mounted and on their way. Mar- 
garet found it very difficult to keep up any sort of conver- 
sation with her companions, for her boy, anxious to do 
honour to his mistress’s donkey, kept Sappho well ahead of 
Michael Amory’s mule. She had only been one week in 
Egypt, so everything which she passed was still an object 
of interest and curiosity, but fortunately almost everything 
explained itself to her, like the illustrations of a book of the 
Old Testament. 

They had turned their backs on the river, with its boats 
and birds and beasts and drum-beating and yelling fella- 
hin, and were now in the silence of the green plain, where 
the blue-shirted fellahin were working knee-deep in the new 
crops. The inundation was just over, and the banks of the 
Nile were as bright as two long velvet ribbons of emerald 
green. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


21 


And now they were off the plain and had passed the 
Temple of Kurneh and the little Coptic village, which was 
the last link with civilization until their long ride up the 
valley terminated in the Excavation Camp. 

In the valley they rode side by side, for the donkey-boy’s 
enthusiasm had distinctly abated. Margaret did not konw 
anything about the valley, beyond the fact that it was called 
the Valley of the Tombs of the Kings. She had not yet 
“done” any tombs, as she had not come up the Nile by boat 
— it was cheaper and quicker for her k) do the journey 
from Cairo to Luxor by train. So far she had not been in 
the hands of Cook. Freddy had told her that the money 
she would have to spend on the steamer she could spend 
better later on, and she would be more able to appreciate 
the tombs and temples, which most tourists see when they 
know too little about things Egyptian to appreciate them. 

Knowing nothing of the story of the great valley, it was 
interesting to Michael to watch the effect it had on the girl 
— its extraordinary silence and its atmosphere of profound 
mj^stery. Their attempt to talk to each other soon failed, 
for Margaret was no good at either banter or small talk. 

For the time being the valley, with its barren cliffs rising 
higher and higher on each side of her, and its world of soft 
pink light, held her. The wide cliff -bound road, which 
wound its way like a white thread through a maze of light 
and sun-pink hills, seemed to be leading her further and 
further into the heart of Egypt, to the very bosom of her 
children’s ancient kingdom. 

Margaret was totally ignorant of the fact that the tombs 
which give the valley its modern name lay in all their deso- 
late splendour in the bowels of the earth, under the cliffs on 
either side of her. Her sense of the valley was not mental, 
it was not derived from books or a knowledge of Egypt’s 
history. 

Why it so affected her she could not imagine. It did not 
depress her so much as it awed her. The light on the hills 
was the light of happiness, and the blueness of the clear sky 


22 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


banished all idea of sadness which a valley called the Valley 
of Tombs might have suggested. Yet it did affect her so 
profoundly that she accepted the idea that in entering this 
valley of desolation she was entering on a new phase of her 
existence. She felt suddenly older and wiser and strange- 
ly^ apprehensive. 

The Sheikh, on his swaying camel, riding on ahead, the 
donkey-boys, with their fleet limbs and blue shirts clinging 
to them as they ran, were becoming immortal in her mem- 
ory. Years would never efface the picture. Only Michael 
Amory and herself, in their European clothes, had no place 
in it. They were intruders. 

Not a bird crossed their path, not a falcon circled over 
the tops of the cliffs. On the Nile thousands of birds had 
looked black against the sunlight as they came to the great 
river to drink. 

‘‘Why does this valley, with its pink sunlight, make talk- 
ing out of the question.?’’ Margaret at last said. “Please 
forgive me if I am a very poor companion.” 

Michael, who had been glad that she had not spoken — ^he 
would not have liked her so well if she had — said, “Please 
don’t feel compelled to talk. I came to help you if you 
needed help, not to bother you or spoil your enjoyment.” 

“Thank you,” she said. “I simply couldn’t talk. Does 
one enjoy Egypt.?” she asked the question pertinently. 

They rode on in silence again and Michael was pleased 
that temperamentally she seemed to “feel” Egypt. There 
had been no suggestion of psychic influence in her very evi- 
dent acceptance of the power of Egypt — just a simple awe, 
which was to Michael absolutely natural. 

Presently she said, “Does my brother live all alone in this 
valley.?” 

“Practically alone, for some months in each year. I am 
with him just now, and in the daytime there are the work- 
men. At night he is alone with his two Sudanese house- 
servants ; but he is well protected — his watch-dogs sit round 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 23 

his hut and nothing human would dare venture near them 
after dark.” 

Margaret tried to laugh. ‘‘Dogs!” she said. “Dogs 
couldn’t keep off this” — she indicated the valley. 

Michael knew what she meant. Not a green blade of 
grass, not the smallest patch of herb was visible. To Mar- 
garet they seemed to be floating rather than riding through 
the pink light of another world. 

“No, not this,” Michael said. “But your brother’s a 
marvel. I couldn’t do it. Yet even he has to leave it now 
and then; sometimes he spends a night in frivolling in 
Luxor or Assuan.” 

As the vision of Luxor hotels, with their company of fash- 
ionably-clothed and overfed tourists, rose up before the girl, 
she laughed more naturally. But in the valley her laughter 
sounded wrong; she quickly hushed it. 

“Fancy Luxor hotels after this ! It certainly is going to 
extremes — personally, their society would bore me, but I 
should think that it was good for Freddy.” 

“Quite necessary,” Michael said. “And he’s awfully 
popular at the dances. I often wonder what some of his 
partners would say if they could see him as I do, pick in 
hand, down in the bowels of the earth or under the blazing 
sun of the desert, for days and days on end! Your broth- 
er’s quite wonderful.” 

“I’m longing to see him at work,” Margaret said. “I 
think his life sounds most exciting and interesting.” 

“Don’t expect too much — it is amazingly interesting, but 
we don’t open a tomb of Queen Thi every day.” 

“What tomb was that.^^ Something very special.'^” 

“Yes, very.” Michael said the words very simply, but it 
struck him as odd that Freddy’s sister should never have 
even heard of the tomb of Queen Thi. “At the present time 
he has just unearthed a small staircase in the sand and a bit 
of a brick wall, which may lead to the tomb he is looking for, 
or they may end in nothing, for sometimes the ancient tomb- 
builders began to dig and work upon a tomb and eventually 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


24 

abandoned the site as hopeless — the sand was too soft, which 
meant the constant falling of sand before they struck a 
foundation of rock, or for some other reason — so after days 
and days of excavating we find that the whole thing is a 
fraud, just the mere beginning of a tomb which was never 
finished. Then other times he finds a tomb and after end- 
less work at it — you can’t imagine how much work it en- 
tails — he discovers that it was robbed of every single thing 
of value, probably by the sexton who was in charge of it 
when it was first built — all the jewels and scarabs and things 
had been looted ; probably they were stolen only a few weeks 
after the^mummy was laid in it.” 

Margaret remained silent. She was thinking and think- 
ing, new and bewildering thoughts were rushing through 
her mind. Before she could in the least appreciate this new 
life what a lot she had to learn ! 

“An excavator’s life isn’t a bed of roses — it doesn’t con- 
sist of picking up jewels and mummy-beads and beautiful 
amulets and rare scarabs and valuable parchments in every 
tomb which is opened. It’s hard, hard work, with any 
amount of boring, minute detail and scientific work attached 
to it.” 

Margaret thought for a moment. To speak at all upon 
a subject of which she knew absolutely nothing was not in 
her nature. 

“Shall we pass any tombs Where are they.^” She had 
expected to see some ruins of fallen buildings, or monu- 
ments which resembled the tombs in “The Street of Tombs” 
at Athens — these were familiar to her from photographs. 
Here there was absolutely nothing, nothing to suggest that 
great tombs had ever been there. 

“They are below us,” Michael said, “and all around us, 
under these pink rocks, buried like coal-mines. Where your 
brother is digging just now the site is rather different — it 
is flatter and less beautiful; it is in a small side valley. 
They were terribly anxious to hide themselves, poor things, 
to get away from robbers.” 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 25 

^‘Oh, I’m so glad I came!” Margaret said, irrelevantly, 
and the deep sigh she gave terminated their conversation. 

Michael knew quite well the nature of her thoughts and 
the turbulent fight for expression which they must be caus- 
ing her. No creature as sensitively attuned as he judged 
her to be could journey for the first time unmoved through 
the valley which to him summed up the word Egypt. He 
allowed her to ride a few paces ahead, just behind the 
Sheikh. The camel’s arrogant head, with its supercilious 
gaze, towered above them. To Margaret, Michael Amory 
and herself were still an offence in the valley. The camel, 
with the high-seated, turbaned Sheikh, seemed a part of the 
whole. The animal, with its prehistoric loneliness of ex- 
pression, the Sheikh, with his splendid deportment and be- 
nign loftiness of manner, suited the dignity of their sur- 
roundings. The camel’s gaze, as its head reached up higher 
and higher to view some object which interested its super- 
cilious mind, made Margaret feel very small and vulgarly 
modern. She was glad that she was riding a humble ass. 
The way the Sheikh rode his haughty animal provoked her 
admiration; it was to her after the manner in which the 
British aristocracy treat their powdered and silk-stockinged 
menservants. 

Margaret felt more at ease on her white donkey, just as 
she felt more at ease with pleasant English jnaidservants 
than with pompous powdered footmen. It was a ridiculous 
simile, but it is the ridiculous which invades the mind in 
sublime moments. 

While Margaret was finding pleasure in watching the 
camel and the Sheikh, or rather, while they were taking 
their place in her mind with the air and the sky and the 
hills and the valley, Michael was certainly enjoying himself 
in a more definite criticism of Freddy’s sister. He remem- 
bered his friend’s remark, ^‘Oh, Meg’s all right,” and he 
knew what he meant. 

Her long limbs and boyish figure delighted his artistic 
eye, while the white topee hat, with the long blue veil, failed 


26 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


to hide the attractive carriage of her head. He felt impa- 
tient to see her unhatted and unveiled. Certainly she was 
not dowdy, nor had she any aggressive cleverness about her. 
Indeed, there was something which suggested a man’s direct- 
ness of mind and a simplicity which was quite unusual and 
fascinating. He could almost have laughed aloud when he 
thought of the picture which he had conjured up to himself 
of the Meg who could “tackle pretty stiff stuff and suck the 
guts out of a book like a weasel sucking the blood out of a 
rabbit.” 

The dowdy “blue stocking” had vanished, and in her 
place was a girl as attractive in her darkness as Freddy was 
in his fairness. 

And so they rode on and on through the Theban hills, 
bathed in pink sunlight. The donkey-boys had fallen be- 
hind. Their first enthusiastic effort to show off before the 
honourable Sitt had quite subsided. They were discussing 
her now, in none too delicate a fashion. The elder of the 
two boys, who was the son of a dragoman, and hoped one 
day to develop into as resplendent a being as his father, 
was in his way a great reader. He had just finished an 
Arabic translation of a French novel and he was picturing 
to his friends Margaret as the heroine of the obscene ro- 
mance. Poor Margaret ! 

In Egypt the Arabic translations of low-class French 
romances, rendered even more unclean by their translation, 
have a poisonous effect upon the minds of the youths who 
devour them. Margaret, who had admired the boy’s bril- 
liant smiles and beautiful features and teeth, which were 
even whiter and more attractive than her brother’s, little 
dreamed, as they fell behind and talked together, of the 
nature of their conversation. 

Their blue shirts looked like turquoise in the sunlight, and 
their little white crochet skull-caps showed to advantage the 
fine outline of their dark heads. They were certainly hand- 
some young rascals, with an inherited grace of manner. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


27 


How her clean, healthy mind would have abhorred and 
hated them if she had understood their ceaseless chatter! 
It was like the noise of starlings on a spring morning. In 
Egypt, where ignorance is bliss, it is certainly folly to be 
wise. In the East, the inquiring mind, especially in domes- 
tic matters, is often its own enemy. 

To Margaret, Egypt held for the time being nothing 
which was unclean or unlovely, nothing which was bettered 
by ignorance. She was lost in its light and mystery. In 
the Theban valley it seemed as if she would live on light, 
that it would supply food for both soul and body. In 
Egypt God is made manifest in the sun. 


CHAPTER III 

Makgaret had been shown over the ‘^estate” ; her modest 
luggage had been deposited in her bedroom, in which she 
was now standing, with her arm linked in her brother’s. 

When she had approved of everything and had told him 
about her journey, she gave his arm a little hug. 

^^Oh, Freddy, it’s good to be with you again! You were 
a brick to let me come.” 

Freddy slid his arm round her shoulders and pressed 
her closer to him. 

‘^It’s topping having you, old girl, but you mustn’t mind 
if I leave you an awful lot alone — I can’t help it.”, 

‘T know you can’t, and if I stew up a bit, you may find 
work which I can do. I’d love to help.” 

^^Oh, don’t fear — I’ll find lots for you to do.” 

She looked at him eagerly, with a touching humility. 
^‘What sort of work?” 

“Cleaning and sorting out the small finds which the work- 
men bring in each night, and you could help Mike to do 
some copying — it’s not difficult, and sometimes the colours 


28 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


vanish when they are exposed to the light. He can’t get 
the things done all at one time.” 

see,” Margaret said, but in her mind there was a hor- 
rible jumble. 

“Sometimes I want Mike to help me — we’re awfully 
short of hands just now — I mean, for hands that you can 
absolutely trusi^ so if you get Into the thing you could do 
some of Mike’s work and let him off.” 

“I’d love to, and you know my capability as well as any- 
one, so if you think I could I’ll do my best.” 

“You’ll soon know as much as Mike did when he came 
here, and your painting’s all right.” 

“How nice Mike is !” she said simply. 

“He’s one of the best.” 

“Is he going to make Egyptology his profession?” 

“I don’t know — I don’t think so. I’m afraid it’s just 
another bit of Mike’s drifting.” 

“What a pity!” Margaret was practical. 

“I tell him it’s time lost — at his age he ought to be at the 
job he means to succeed in.” 

“Isn’t he taking this up in earnest? He seems to love 
the life.” 

“He does love the thing, but the detail of the work, with 
all its exactitude and rules and regulations, bores him. 
You’ll understand better later on.” Freddy opened a copy 
of the annual report of the British School of Archaeology 
in Egypt and pointed to pages and pages of written rec- 
ords, outline drawings, measurements and diagrams and 
plans of tombs and excavations, even accurate copies of 
small pieces of broken vases and plates and jars — almost 
everything which had been dug up was carefully recorded; 
nothing seemed too small or incomplete to be of value. 

Margaret looked at it wonderingly. What was all the 
labour for? Some day would she, too, understand the mean- 
ing of it and the use of such scraps and atoms of ancient 
pottery? Freddy digging out beautiful objects for the 
British Museum, statues and scarabs, wonderful jewels and 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 29 

necklaces of mummy-beads, was what she had visualized, but 
of all this she had never dreamed. 

She put her finger on the outline drawing of a small 
fragment of pottery with the tracing of a tiny sprig of 
some plant on it. Her eyes said ‘‘What good can that be ?” 

Freddy read her meaning. “That small piece of pottery 
^ay have shown that foreign vegetation was introduced into 
the district. It is a new leaf, not met with before. It was 
probably sent for identification to the Botanical Department 
of University College in London. Sometimes little things 
like that give rise to heated discussions and theories. Some 
excavators won’t draw on their imagination — ^they will have 
nothing but hard facts ; others start a theory which sounds 
far-fetched — often it comes out correct.” 

“Realistic and Imaginative Schools !” 

“That’s about it. The middle way is generally the 
soundest. The excavator without imagination never gets 
very far, whereas the man who is apt to let his imagination 
run wild gets on the wrong track and it’s hard to get him 
off ; he overlooks things that won’t fit in with his theory.” 

“I had no idea archaeology involved all this — you’re 
awfully clever, old boy.” 

“It’s unending work and extraordinarily far-reaching, as 
it’s done to-day. In the early days the horrors that were 
committed in the way of excavating were too awful.” 

“You work like detectives now, it seems to me, following 
up the smallest threads and links.” 

“That’s it,” Freddy said. “We are just a body of in- 
tellectual detectives, running to earth the history of Egypt 
and the story of the ancient world. We’re really far more 
interested in finding connecting links and establishing dis- 
puted facts, than in unearthing statues and figures which 
please the public. Egyptologists have unearthed the pri- 
vate lives of Egypt’s kings and queens.” 

“I suppose your friend Mike only enters into the artistic 
side of it?” 

“Not altogether — he’s awfully keen about Egyptian his- 


30 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


tory and mythology, but he hates detail too much to give 
his mind and time to all the hard grind of the thing — he 
likes to study the history we unearth.” 

‘T’m afraid I shall be like him. I want to enjoy the re- 
sults without the dull labour of digging.” 

“It’s a sort of thing that’s born in you, I think.” 

“You love it, Freddy 

“Rather ! I couldn’t stick to any other work now.” 

“You’re looking awfully well.” 

“Never felt fitter.” 

“The skulls and mummies under your bed haven’t done 
you any harm. Poor aunt Anna, how she dreads them! 
She always imagines that everything Egyptian has the most 
malign powers. She’s sure some mummy will take its re- 
venge on you for disturbing it.” 

“Poor old Anna! I suppose she thinks we are the first 
people who ever thought of disturbing these tombs! She 
little knows how rare a thing it is to come across one which 
was not robbed thousands of years ago of all that was worth 
having. If Egyptian amulets and mummies had such terri- 
ble powers, you may be very sure that the modern Arabs, 
who are the most superstitious people in the world, would 
not touch the work, and the ancient sextons or guardians of 
the tombs, who were even more superstitious, wouldn’t have 
dared to disturb the last slumber of a lately-buried Pharaoh. 
They plundered and sacked the tomb just as soon as ever 
they could. The tombs were first built up in this valley 
(with the hopes of hiding them ; they were built here to get 
away from the wretches who plundered the cemeteries on the 
plains. I suppose the Pharaohs who were having their 
tombs built hadn’t discovered that the other tombs had been 
robbed by the very guardians who were set to watch them. 
It was left for us to discover that.” 

“Was that so? It certainly does not look like a valley 
of tombs.” 

“They were hidden with all the cunning which the East- 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 31 

ern mind could devise, and yet most of them have been 
robbed.” 

They had left the house and were sitting on lounge chairs 
in the front of the hut. There was a beautiful moon and 
a sky full of stars, such as Margaret had never seen before. 

‘^Come on, Mike !” Freddy called out. ^‘Don’t make your- 
self scarce. Meg and I don’t want to discuss family secrets. 
Her first night in the valley is going to be the real thing — 
no intrusion of family skeletons — they can wait.” 

^‘Our family skeletons would feel themselves very out of 
place here,” Margaret said as Michael Amory appeared. 

Michael sat down beside her and very soon all three were 
talking about topics of general interest. Meg gave them 
the latest London gossip, which at the time was very domi- 
nated by the unrest in Ireland and the Ulster scandals. 

Michael, who had on one side of his family Irish blood 
and strong Irish sentiments, did not voice his opinions. He 
listened to all that Margaret had to tell her brother, news 
principally gathered from friends living in Ulster and from 
the violently anti-Nationalist press. There certainly seemed 
exciting times in Ireland and Margaret’s talk was unpreju- 
diced and interesting. 

While they were talking Mike was able to enjoy the girl’s 
beauty and study her individuality. Pretty as she was — 
and more than pretty — it was her personality which pleased 
him — the bigness of her nature, the evidence of her wide- 
mindedness and her quick grasp of fresh subjects, and above 
all, in her, as in Freddy, there was the ring of unquestion- 
able honour and clean-mindedness. 

Margaret under the Eastern moonlight was charming. 
Her brown hair was so soft and thick that Mike would have 
liked to put his hand through it, as he saw her do every now 
and then. Most women, he knew, were shy of disturbing 
their hair, however naturally arranged it might seem. Mar- 
garet, when anything excited her, had a trick of putting her 
long fingers through her hair, upwards from her forehead, 
and letting it fall down again as it felt inclined. Her nice- 


32 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


ty of dress, too, pleased her critical inspector. It was fas- 
tidiously simple and fastidiously worn. In this again she 
was one with her brother. 

When English news had been discussed, their talk turned 
again to Egypt. Margaret greatly desired to study 
Arabic ; but although her brother could speak it extremely 
well, she knew that he had no time to teach her. It amazed 
her how much he had had to learn and had learned during 
his years in Egypt. It was after twelve o’clock when the 
trio parted for the night. 

When Meg was alone in her room, a certain reaction set 
in ; she felt tired and just a little depressed. She wanted to 
do so much and she knew so little. Beyond the name Rame- 
ses she had not recognized the name of one of the kings her 
brother had mentioned during their conversation that eve- 
ning — Indeed, she had failed to grasp the meaning of al- 
most everything he had said, and yet she knew that he was 
talking down to her level, or thought he was. 

Bewildered with the sense of Egypt, she fell asleep and 
dreamed of the valley and her wonderful ride. 


CHAPTER IV 

Margaret had lived in the valley for a little over three 
weeks, immortal weeks of intense interest and new Impres- 
sions. She had fitted herself into the atmosphere with a 
charm and adaptability which left Michael and Freddy 
wondering how they had ever got on without her. A woman 
in the hut made all the difference; st feeling of ^^homeness” 
now pervaded the camp. Margaret had found so much to 
do In the way of adding obvious touches of comfort and 
convenience to the hut and to the tents that she had found 
little or no time ta start upon her studies of Egyptology. 

The moonlight nights she had spent either in the com- 
pany of her brother or Michael, wandering about the valley. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


33 


or sitting alone outside their primitive home, absorbing the 
spirit of the desert. She had not felt ready for book-learn- 

ing- 

One evening, after dinner, Michael and she had ridden 
down the valley and back again, repeating her first journey, 
so that she might enjoy it by moonlight. 

The three weeks had done a great deal to help her to dis- 
tinguish some of the periods and terms in connection with 
her brother’s work. The word Coptic, for instance, had now 
its proper significance in her mind, and the terms dynasty 
and century were no longer jumbled hopelessly together. 
She also realized that Egypt had been governed by kings 
and queens with strong individualities of their own; they 
were not all spoken of by Egyptologists as ^Tharaohs,” a 
word which hitherto had suggested to Margaret the title 
given to the hosts of nameless and half legendary monarchs 
who ruled over a semi-Biblical kingdom. 

Thus far and no further had she gone in the story of 
the world’s first civilization; but she had gone further in 
her friendship with Michael Amory and in her knowledge of 
things Mohammedan. He had helped her to unravel the 
skein of difficulties which Egypt’s three distinct and widely- 
different civilizations had presented to her — the period of 
ancient Egypt, the period which we now call Coptic or 
Early Christian, and the period of the Arab invasion, with 
its importation of a Mohammedan civilization. Traces of 
all these distinct civilizations and religions perpetually come 
to light in the work of excavation. Nothing puzzled the 
girl more than the fact that while digging on an ancient 
Egyptian site, her brother seemed to find Christian and 
Mohammedan relics. But even when he was speaking of 
interesting events in comparatively modern Egyptian his- 
tory, which he took for granted she would appreciate and 
understand, Margaret felt disgracefully ignorant. 

So Michael took her in hand and he thoroughly enjoyed 
the work of helping her to grasp some of the essential 
points which would clear her mind before she started upon 

3 


34 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


her serious reading. She had begun taking lessons in 
Arabic with Michael, who could speak it fluently but could 
neither read nor write it, the written and spoken language 
being entirely different. 

Margaret’s quickness astonished him. He was ignorant 
of her record at college. 

He was now having an example of her capacity for learn- 
ing, which she did at a pace which rather unnerved him. 
Margaret learnt a language as she learned the geography 
of a city. She would quietly and composedly study a map 
until the “sense” of the city was in her brain. In beginning 
her study of Arabic she explained to her brother that she 
must first of all try to grasp the “sense” of the language. 

“I want a map of it, Freddy — you know what I mean.” 

And Freddy did know. The Lampton type of brain was 
familiar to him, and his own method of absorbing languages, 
or any of the subjects which he had had to study for his 
examinations, was exactly similar to Margaret’s, so he set 
Michael and their Arabic master on the right track. 

As a rule, the Arabic alphabet takes a student about 
three weeks to learn. Margaret, with apparently very little 
trouble, mastered it in one ; it took Michael almost a month. 
Yet Margaret knew that she was not grasping things with 
any ease or quickness; she felt too unsettled and impatient. 
She was “dying,” as she expressed it, to push on with 
Arabic so as to be able to talk to the natives and under- 
stand things Mohammedan, but the very fact that Arabic 
was not going to help her to read Egyptian hieroglyphics, 
or understand anything at all about ancient Egypt, acted 
as an irritant to her brain, and retarded her working 
powers. 

“And when my brain is annoyed, or it feels impatient,” 
she said, “bang goes my poor intelligence — it simply won’t 
be hurried ; it will only work in its own deliberate way.” 

Michael declared that the w’ay it was working was good 
enough for him — rather too good, in fact. 

Under such circumstances, the intimacy between Mar- 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


35 


garet and her brother’s best friend naturally ripened very 
quickly. Margaret felt as though she had known him for 
months instead of weeks, and more than once she had won- 
dered what life would be like without him. He was much 
more imaginative than Freddy and more intellectually ex- 
citable and curious. He theorized and perhaps romanced 
where Freddy was apt to accept only proven facts. Mich- 
ael’s temperament was the exact stimulant which Margaret’s 
brain required. 

That Michael did his share of hard work Margaret had 
realized when she accompanied him one day to the scene of 
his labours. She had had to bend almost double and crawl 
down a steep shaft, of slippery, sliding debris, to what she 
thought must be halfway through the world, and pick her 
way over the rubbish in a semi-excavated chamber in the 
vast tomb. Some of the chambers were full of huge stones, 
which had fallen in with the roof. It was in a smaller 
chamber, where the heat was so great that she could scarcely 
breathe, that Michael spent his mornings and the greater 
part of his afternoons. 

The heat of Egypt, concentrated for centuries and cen- 
turies, seemed to scorch Margaret’s face when she entered 
it. The building was like a temple with side chapels. In 
one side chapel Michael sat himself down to copy a wide 
band of gaily-painted decorations, which formed a dado 
round its three walls. 


On this particular night Margaret had returned from a 
long walk with Michael. They had left the low level of the 
valley and its winding white road and had climbed up on 
to the heights of the Sahara. It had pleased Margaret to 
feel that her feet were pressing the sands of the great 
African desert. She had never dreamed that their valley 
was actually a rift in the rocks of the Sahara, that ocean 
of sand which travels on and on to infinity. 

They had stood side by side on its high ridge, with their 


36 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


eyes looking towards the plain below, the historic plain 
which once held the capital of the world. The plain of 
Thebes reached to the river, and across the river lay gay 
Luxor, with its lights and the luxuries of modern civilization. 

Their walk was finished. It had drawn them still closer 
together. The solitude of the Sahara, with its sense of 
Divinity, had established a new link in their sympathies; 
' it had created a feeling between them similar to that which 
is the outcome of two people having been together through 
strenuous and trying circumstances. They had, as usual, 
spoken very little; yet they were conscious of having en- 
joyed each other’s society intensely and in the best possible 
manner, the enjoyment of complete understanding. 

Earlier in the evening, when Michael asked her to go for 
a walk, because Freddy was absorbed in some business 
letters, he had made the proposal in his habitual way. 

‘‘May I come and keep silence with you to-night in the 
great Sahara 

And Meg had said, “Yes, do. You know, we really talk 
to each other all the time — my mind has so much more the 
gift of speech than my tongue.” 

And so their silence had been as golden as the sand at 
their feet, which under Egypt’s moon never pales. 

Freddy was only too glad that Michael had “cottoned on 
to Meg,” as he expressed it — in fact, he was extremely 
pleased, for Meg would drive “the other woman” out of his 
thoughts, and if anything should come of it — well, Mike 
was one of the very best; Meg could not have a better 
husband. 

But so far no such thought had entered Mike’s head, nor 
yet Margaret’s. She was too interested and busy in her 
new life to think of love; she was only conscious of living 
as she had never lived before, and as she would have asked 
to live if she had possessed a wishing-ring. Every hour and 
minute of her days were a delight. To be with her best 
“pal” Freddy in Egypt seemed too good to be true, and 
added to that, there was this unexpected pleasure, the 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 3T 

friendship and companionship of the nicest man she had 
ever met. His rather ^^drifting” temperament and nature 
appealed to her as it appealed to Freddy, for the very 
reason, perhaps, that keenly sensitive as she was and sus- 
ceptible to her surroundings, her nature and brains were of 
a practical order. She was not imaginative or moody. 

She loved to listen to Michael’s vivid, unpractical, 
Utopian theories and to follow him to where his flashes of 
brilliance carried him. His dream cities and dream people 
delighted Margaret. He told her stories as she had never 
been told stories before, invented as he went along, stories 
which kept her one minute fighting against tears and the 
next in delicious laughter. 

Margaret never could tell stories, not even to little chil- 
dren ; she was not gifted with a creative brain or ingenuity. 

On the heights of the Sahara they had not broken the 
silence ; it was only on their return j ourney , under a canopy 
of southern stars, that Margaret had said : 

“A short story, please.” 

And Michael had told her a story about a certain king of 
Egypt who had a beautiful slave, who had such power 
over him that she could make him do anything she liked. 
The things she liked were more fantastic than anything 
Margaret had ever read in The Arabian Nights. 


CHAPTER V 

Now, on her lounge-chair in front of the hut, Margaret 
was resting after their walk. Freddy and Michael were 
both indoors. 

Half an hour or perhaps more might have passed, when 
suddenly a luminous figure stood in front of her. She had 
not seen its approach; it was simply there before her, just 
as if it had taken form out of the desert air. 

She recognized that it was the figure of an Egyptian 


38 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


Pharaoh or a high priest — she could not tell which. It 
wore the short kilt-like garment and the high head-dress, 
with a serpent’s head sticking out from the front of it (the 
double crown of North and South Egypt, though Margaret 
did not know it at the time) which had become familiar to 
her in the pictures of ancient Egyptian kings. She had 
seen many such figures in her brother’s books and in the 
mural paintings in the tombs. 

As Margaret looked with amazement — certainly not fear 
— at the face of the strange apparition in front of her, she 
thought that it was the saddest she had ever seen. In the 
eyes there was a world of suffering and sorrow. 

She felt conscious of being awake; the moon and the 
stars were above her; they surrounded the luminous figure. 
Her brain struggled for intelligence. Was this the spirit 
of some great king of Egypt, or of a high priest, or what 
was it.?^ Was it an optical delusion.'^ If it was a spirit, 
why had it come to her.^ 

^^Tell me who you are,” she said. ‘^Do you want any- 
thing.?” She spoke nervously, not expecting an answer. 

‘T once ruled over Egypt, and I return to see what my 
people are doing, if the seed I sowed has borne fruit.” 

‘Tn this valley there are no people — it is a valley of the 
dead.” 

‘^My body was brought to my mother’s tomb in this 
valley.” 

The voice was so sad that Margaret said : 

‘Wou are in trouble.? You cannot rest.? Is that why 
your spirit has returned to earth.?” 

“My spirit is with Aton, the master of that which is or- 
dained. I have come to deliver a message; it is for you.” 

“For me.?” Margaret said. “I know nothing at all about 
Egypt.” ^ 

“That is not necessary. Aton’s love is great and large. 
It filled the two lands of Egypt ; it fills the world to-day.” 

‘^But I am ignorant. You think I understand — I don’t. 
... I can do nothing.” 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


39 


The sad eyes in the emaciated face, the face of a saint 
and fanatic, smiled at her fears so tenderly that Margaret’s 
heart was less troubled. 

^Wou can tell the one who is to do my work, the one who 
knows and loves At on, Aton — the compassionate, the all- 
merciful. Tell him that I bid him take up my work.” 

^Wour work.'^” Margaret said. ‘Wou were a king of 
ancient Egypt. ... You speak as if you had worshipped 
our God . . . there is no one who can do your work . . .” 
She paused, and then said nervously, ‘^Egypt is different 
now — it cannot go back.” 

‘‘Egypt must go on, not back. Nothing is different in 
the heart of man ; your soul is as my soul. Aton liveth for 
ever in his children. He filleth the two lands of Egypt with 
his love. I was his messenger.” 

“But who was Aton.^^” Margaret said. In her mind she 
was striving to recall if she had ever heard any references 
to the worship of one god in Egypt, except by the children 
of Israel. 

“The one who is to do my work will tell you. He has 
studied my teachings, he understands the love of Aton, 
whose rays encompass the world.” 

“Thank you,” Margaret said. “I will tell him.” She 
knew instinctively that it was Michael who “understood.” 

“He knows my work and my desire for the people of 
Egypt. He knows that my people worship one God, but 
that they have no love of God in their hearts.” 

As the figure moved, it became less distinct. Margaret 
said : “Is that all I am to tell him? Are you going away .^” 
She felt distressed; she knew not why. 

“I will return. Give him my message.” 

“That he is to continue your work in Egypt 

“That he is to teach my people the love and the goodness 
of Aton, that his mercy is everlasting.” 

“Tell me, before you go, who is Aton.^^” 

“You ask, as people asked of a Messenger of God who 
followed after me in my distant kingdom of Syria. Did He 


40 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


not answer them: are those that draw us to the 

Kingdom of Heaven? The fowls of the air, and all the 
beasts that are under the earth and upon the earth, and 
the fishes in the sea, these are they which draw you, and the 
Kingdom of Heaven is within you.” 

‘^And will he understand if I tell him your words ? I am 
quite ignorant of your teachings.” 

‘^He will understand because he has studied my teachings. 
He knows how fair of form was the formless Aton, how 
radiant of colour. He knows that the Kingdom which is 
Heaven is within us. In loving the world and the beauty of 
the world which is Aton’s he knows my commandments.” 

As Margaret was about to ask why he had not appeared 
to Michael himself, for she had no doubt that it was upon 
him that the mission was laid, the vision disappeared and 
she was left alone, under the clear skies, gazing out over the 
valley which lay spread before her, in its eternal stillness. 
She could hear the sound of her last words vibrating in the 
air. There was not a sign of any living thing near her; 
only in the distance she could hear the barking of the jack- 
als, a desert sound to which she had already grown so ac- 
customed as to scarcely notice it. 

That she had been wide awake she was convinced ; she did 
not feel as though she had been asleep. As she tried to 
visualize the vanished figure and to repeat to herself the 
words, which she must either have imagined or heard, 
Michael came out and offered her a cigarette. 

‘‘Who were you talking to?” he said. “Freddy and I 
thought we heard your voice.” 

“Michael,” she said eagerly, “what time is it? Have I 
been asleep? Have I been here long?” 

She spoke anxiously, impatiently. 

“How can I tell if you have been asleep .?” he said, laugh- 
ingly. “As to the time, it’s about eleven o’clock. Do you 
often talk in your sleep 

“Sit down beside me,” she said urgently, “and let me tell 
you what has happened. If I have been asleep, I have 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


41 


dreamed it; if I was awake, I have experienced a very ex- 
traordinary thing, the most extraordinary thing you can 
imagine !” 

Michael threw himself down on the ground at her feet. 

‘^While I was sitting here, and, as I thought, wide awake, 
thinking over our walk in the Sahara and about your story 
and enjoying the moon and the stars, quite suddenly a figure 
appeared. I was awfully startled, and yet not frightened.” 

“What sort of a figure ? One of the house-boys pretend- 
ing to be a spook * 

“No, no house-boy. If I tell you, don’t laugh, for even if 
it was only a dream — ^which, of course, it must have been — 
it was very beautiful and solemn.” 

Now that Margaret was talking to someone about it, the 
incredibility of the incident seemed much stronger. “It was 
probably a dream,” she said humbly. “All the same, don’t 
make fun of it.” 

“I won’t laugh,” he said. “You know I never laugh at 
such things. I believe in visions — if you like to call these 
visitations visions.” 

“But the odd thing is that the figure was exactly like the 
picture of an Egyptian Pharaoh — that’s why it now seems 
absurd — only his face was not like the proud arrogant faces 
of the Egyptian kings one sees in pictures — fighting kings. 
It was more like the face of a suffering Christ, the saddest 
face I every saw, or ever will see again. Oh, those eyes !” 
Margaret shivered, and paused. 

“Please go on,” Michael said. His voice encouraged her. 

“I can’t remember exactly what he said . . . it’s all 
slipping away. He spoke of some character of which I 
never heard; he said beautiful things — I wish I could recol- 
lect the exact words he used.” 

“Then he spoke to you.?^” Michael’s voice was low, in- 
tense. 

“Yes, he spoke. He gave me a message for you.” 

“For me.?” Michael said passionately. “For me?j How 
do you know it was for me.?” 


42 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


Margaret trembled as she spoke. ‘^How do I know it was 
for you.'^” She paused. ‘T do know — or, at least, I never 
doubted while the figure was here. Now it seems foolish — 
it must all have been a dream.” 

“No, go on. I want to hear everything.” 

“He said I was to tell you that you were to carry on his 
work in the world, he said that you would understand.” 
She paused. “If it was you, you will understand, because 
he said you had read his teachings and believed in them. 
Does that convey anything.?” 

“Yes, yes. Go on — ^what else.?” Michael’s voice trem- 
bled with impatience. 

“There was one word he used which I have forgotten . . . 
and it meant everything. I wish I could remember it ! It’s 
a name I never heard before.” 

“Think,” Michael said, “do try to think — it may come to 
you.” Margaret noticed that he was trying to hide his 
excitement; he was more nervous than she was. 

“He spoke of someone as God, and said beautiful things 
about Him . . . this God, of everlasting mercy . . . those 
were his word. . . . Oh, I remember the name !” she cried. 
“It was Aton — it seemed to be the name of his God. He 
spoke of Aton as St. Francis spoke of Christ. Aton was in 
the birds and fishes and flowers and in the cool streams.” 

Michael turned round and grasped Margaret’s hand. He 
was trembling with excitement ; he could hide it no longer. 

“It was Akhnaton! Oh, Meg, how wonderful! Tell me 
everything . . . the spirit of Akhnaton !” 

“But who was Akhnaton.? I am in the Hark. He said he 
was Aton’s messenger.” 

“First tell me all you can remember.” 

Margaret tried to recall everything that the Pharaoh had 
said to her. His exact words she could nut repeat, but their 
essence she contrived to convey quite clearly to the listen- 
ing Michael. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 43 

‘^Akhnaton,” he kept murmuring. ‘Tt must be Akhna- 
ton ... a message to me through you !” 

One sentence she was able to repeat almost word for word. 
^‘Who are those that draw us to the Kingdom of Heaven.? 
The fowls of the air and all the beasts that are under the 
earth and upon the earth, and fishes in the sea, these are 
they which draw you, and the Kingdom of Heaven is within 
you.” 

Michael had unconsciously drawn closer to her as she 
spoke. She heard him say, with a sigh of intense satisfac- 
tion, ^‘His very teachings, Christ’s own words !” 

‘^Tell me as exactly as you can what he was like.” 

Margaret closed her eyes to bring back a picture of the 
vision, the wonderful figure, luminous and bright. 

“His sadness is what I remember most plainly. I had 
thought that all the Pharaohs were proud, hard warrior 
kings, with no pity in their hearts. This king’s face spoke 
of the suffering of Christ, of a man of sorrows and ac- 
quainted with grief. His sorrow seemed to be for humanity, 
for our sins, not the sorrow of a man who had known only 
personal unhappiness.” 

Michael said nothing ; he was too deeply moved. 

“As I told you,” Margaret continued, “he had a very 
strangely-shaped head, more curiously-shaped than I can 
describe — very long and sloping upwards to the back. He 
wore a high head-dress which seemed too heavy for his 
slender neck. Coming from behind it there were bright 
rays, just like rays of the sun — I have never seen anything 
like them in any picture . . . oh, it must have been a 
dream ! It all sounds quite absurd.” Margaret’s trembling 
voice belied her words. 

“Akhnaton!” Michael cried excitedly. “Now there can 
be no doubt. Oh, Meg !” He had unconsciously been using 
Freddy’s pet-name for her, his hand sought hers sympa- 
thetically. 

Margaret prized the word “Meg” as it came affection- 
ately from his lips. 


44 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


‘‘Meg, it is all too wonderful !” 

Michael said no more*; he had buried his face in his two 
hands. He would have given his youth to have seen what 
Margaret had seen. 

“Then you don’t think it was a dream 

“How could you have dreamed the very appearance of 
Akhnaton, or dreamed his personality, when you have never 
heard of him.?” 

“I suppose I couldn’t,” she said. “But was Akhnaton 
unlike any other Pharaoh of Egypt.?” 

“As unlike as St. Francis was to Nero.” 

A sudden idea came to Margaret. “But,” she said, “he 
spoke to me in English, in my own language. If it was 
really the spirit of Akhnaton, how could he.?” 

“Dear Meg, there are more things in divine philosophy 
than are dreamed of by you or me. In what language did 
Our Saviour speak to St. Francis, who was an Italian, and 
to St. Catherine.?” 

“That is true,” Margaret said, in a changed tone. “Will 
you tell me all about this Pharaoh?” 

Michael thought before answering her question, and then 
he said, “I’d rather not, not yet.” 

“But why.?” 

“Because I don’t want to put any ideas into your head. 
All this has come perfectly naturally, and through a mod- 
ern who was totally ignorant of the message she was con- 
veying. If you were to receive another message, if you 
ever were to see Akhnaton again, and you knew all about 
him, it would not be the same thing.” 

“Oh,” Margaret said quickly, “I forgot — ^he said as he 
disappeared, ‘I will return.’ ” She gave a deep-drawn sigh 
and said nervously, “Do you think he will .?” 

“Will you be afraid.? Were you afraid.?” Michael’s 
arm had slipped almost around her shoulders. It was a 
moment when close human contact came very graciously to 
the girl. 

“Afraid.? No, he was too gentle, too sad — there was 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


45 


absolutely nothing to be afraid of. I didn’t stop to think 
of the supernaturalness of the vision — I was much too inter- 
ested. If it was a ghost, I shall never be afraid of ghosts 
again.” 

Michael shivered. 

Meg looked at him. She had hurt him ; she felt a slight 
shrinking in his sympathy. 

‘^Don’t speak of ghosts, Meg — hate the term, with all 
its cheapness and irreverence !” 

‘^Then you believe in visions You are convinced that I 
have not dreamed all this.?^” 

‘Tf it had been Freddy who had told me, I should have 
said that he had been asleep and dreamed it, because he 
knows all about Akhnaton. are constantly discussing 

his character, a character I admire much more than he does. 
But as it was you who saw him and you who have described 
him as accurately as if you had his portrait in front of 
y9U, I feel certain it was not a dream.” 

Meg remained silent, while her thoughts worked with a 
new and amazing rapidity. In Egypt she felt that any- 
thing was possible; the supernatural might very soon be- 
come natural. And certainly the face which she had seen 
was so unlike the types of the conventional figures of the 
Egyptian kings she would have visualized if she had tried 
her best to picture one from imagination, that she began to 
wonder if Michael was right in his assumption that she had 
actually seen and been in communication with the spirit of 
Akhnaton. 

“But why should he have chosen me, this great Pharaoh 
she said. “Modern me, with no knowledge whatsoever of his 
kingdom or his beliefs!” 

“Ah, why Michael said. “Have we ever been told why 
Mary was chosen to be the Mother of Jesus, the Divine Man 
Who taught the world what Akhnaton tried to teach his 
people thirteen hundred years before His coming — that the 
Kingdom of God is within us ? Who can tell the manner or 
the means by which God works.? Not half, or a quarter, of 


46 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


the Christian world knows, Meg, how often God speaks to 
them through mysterious channels — ^through spirits, if you 
like. When people are inspired to do good works, to lead 
what the material world calls holy lives, God has spoken to 
them, the God Who is within them, the God Who brought 
you and me together, Meg, to enjoy this valley. Its empti- 
ness and stillness is full of God. Don’t you feel that its 
beauty and solitude are due to His presence 

Meg shivered. ‘T know what you mean.” 

‘‘Don’t be nervous. It is a great privilege, this sense of 
the divine, this beautiful closeness to God, this cutting off 
of our material selves, this knowledge of our Kingdom of 
Heaven within us.” 

“I am far more earth-tied than you, Mike. I do feel 
these things, but more feebly, less convincingly. I have 
never thought much about them. We Lamptons are very 
practical; all our men have led good, clean, straightfor- 
ward lives, and our women have not made bad wives and 
mothers, but I don’t think we have been idealists, or very 
religious. Our sense of honour more than our beliefs has 
kept us straight.” 

“Poor, poor Akhnaton!” Michael said. His thoughts 
had strayed while Margaret spoke. 

“Why do you say ‘Poor Akhnaton.?^’ Why was he so 
sad.?” 

Michael evaded the question by saying, “We won’t speak 
of this to anyone, if you don’t mind. Let it be just between 
you and me.” 

Margaret hesitated for a moment. There was something 
stirring and pleasurable to her emotions in the idea of 
having a secret with Michael ; it was like possessing a part 
of him all to herself ; yet she sl^rank from keeping back 
anything from Freddy. Even this dream — if it was only a 
dream — she would naturally have told to him, because it 
held such a wonderful idea; it would have interested him. 
It was interesting from the scientific point of view, the fact 
that she should have been able to project her unconscious 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


47 


brain into the history which she was going to study and 
accurately visualize and create for herself the personality 
and teachings of a Pharaoh of whom she had never heard. 
If it had been the great Rameses, or any Biblical character 
who in later years entered into Egyptian history, it would 
have meant less, for already the personality of the great 
builder-king of Egypt was known to her, by the frequency 
with which she had heard the expression “Rameses the 
Great.” But of the heretic Pharaoh she had never heard. 

‘‘Do you mind not mentioning it even to your brother?” 
Mike said. “If he was not in sympathy with my belief thai; 
it was not a dream, he might unconsciously affect you — ^he 
would probably tell you much that I would rather you didn’t 
know until we find out more.” ' 

Margaret gave her promise willingly. Michael’s reason 
seemed to her such a justifiable one that their secret might 
be kept even from Freddy. 

Presently Freddy shouted out, “I’m off to bed, Meg — 
kick Mike out and go to yours — you’ve had a long day.” 

As Mike said good-night, Margaret noticed how strained 
and grave he was. “Don’t look so serious !” She tried to 
speak lightly. “To-morrow we shall both say that It was 
all a dream. Fancy an Egyptian Pharaoh rising out of his 
tomb below the hills to speak to me ! I’m not going to think 
of it any more — I’ll send myself to sleep by trying to say 
the Arabic alphabet backwards.” 

Michael did not look any the less grave. “He was 
brought to the valley,” he said, “to his mother’s tomb, and 
I don’t suppose that I am the first person to receive a mes- 
sage from him — perhaps the first European, but then, I 
love his teachings. They have not been known very long.” 

“He said he had come to see what his people were doing. 
Do you really think he has given this message to others?” 

“Why not? — in another manner. These holy men in 
Egypt who feel compelled to give up their lives to preach- 
ing and praying, and who travel from desert-town to desert- 
town, calling on the people to worship the one and only God 


48 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


— who knows what the manner of their call was, or how 
God came to them ?” 

‘^Then you think that God came to-night, in this valley, 
in the form of Akhnaton, to you through me?” 

‘T certainly do. Akhnaton, like Christ, became divine. 
We could all be divine if we allowed ourselves to be.” 

“Good-night,” Meg said, for Freddy was shouting again. 
“It’s late, and Pm afraid I am too matter-of-fact and far 
too materialistic to follow your ideas and beliefs.” 

“I wish I followed what I believe,” Mike said. “On a 
night like this you can’t help believing that God is in the 
yellow sand and in the blue sky and in the beautiful still- 
ness. He is in you and me and around us. The hills look 
very holy, don’t they? But to-morrow it will be so easy to 
forget, to take everything for granted, or to behave as if 
chance had produced God’s world.” He held her hand for 
one moment longer than was necessary. “One is so closely 
in touch with the beauty of God here, Meg. In busy Luxor 
or Cairo, or in any city, material things are the things that 
matter. God is forgotten, set aside . . . man’s ingenuity 
is so much more obvious.” 

“I know,” Meg said. “Do you wonder at hermits and 
saints?” She smiled a beautiful “Good-night.” 

When she was alone in her room, she opened Maspero’s 
Dawn of Civilization^ which Freddy had placed there for 
her. She turned over its pages idly. “I wonder if I should 
find anything about Akhnaton here,” she said, “or if this is 
too early history?” 

Suddenly she closed the book. “No, I won’t — I will keep 
my promise. I won’t read anything about him.” 

She paused and thought for a few moments: her brain 
was too active for sleep, her nerves too much on edge, so 
instead of reading about Akhnaton, who is known in his- 
tory as Amenhotep IV., the heretic Pharaoh, she knelt down 
and prayed to his God, beginning with the old familiar 
words, “Our Father, which art in heaven,” for He is the 
same God yesterday, to-day and for ever, the God of whom 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


49 


Akhnaton said, ‘T-Ie makes the young sheep to dance upon 
their hind legs, and the birds to flutter in the marshes,” and 
as a modern writer said of Him, “The God of the simple 
pleasures of life. Whose symbol was the sun’s disc, just as 
it was the symbol of Christianity. There dropped not a 
sigh from the lips of a babe that the intangible Aton did 
not hear; no lamb bleated for its mother but the remote 
Aton hastened to soothe it. He was the living father and 
mother of all that He had made. He was the Lord of Love. 
He was the tender nurse who creates the man-child in 
woman, and soothes him that he may not weep.”^ 

This was the God Margaret prayed to, not knowing that 
it was Aton, the God whom Akhnaton first taught the world 
to praise, the God for whom Akhnaton thought his king- 
dom well lost. He was Margaret’s God, as He is our God, 
the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac and the God of 
Jacob, the God Who revealed Himself to His chosen people 
in the form of Jesus Christ. 

One thousand three hundred years elapsed between the 
mission of Akhnaton and the mission of Jesus Christ. Still 
another one thousand and nine hundred years were to elapse 
before the world was to know that there was a king in 
Egypt, the land of the crocodile-god and the cat-god, 
Egypt, a very Pantheon of animal-headed gods, to whom 
God revealed Himself as he revealed Himself to Christ, a 
God of Love, a God of Tenderness and of Mercy — “The 
master of that which is ordained.” 


CHAPTER VI 

The next day Freddy announced at breakfast, which was a 
typically English meal — except for the excellence of the 
coffee — that there was to be a very extra-special ball the 
next night at the Cataract Hotel at Assuan. 

iWeigall’s Akhnaton, Pharaoh of Egypt. 


4 


50 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


‘‘Would you like to go to it, Meg?” he asked. “I think 
you’d enjoy it — I can guarantee you plenty of partners.” 

“Would you go to it if I wasn’t here?” Meg asked ten- 
tatively. The old Meg in her thrilled at the idea of dancing 
on a good floor with good partners. Freddy had told her 
of Michael’s record as a dancer, so she knew that she could 
count on two partners, at least, for Freddy and she had 
learnt dancing together, and had enjoyed nothing better 
than waltzing with each other. 

“Yes, I thought of going,” Freddy said. “I can leave 
everything all right here, and it’s about time we had a day 
off.” He turned to Michael. “Carruthers is coming to see 
me. He wants to stay the night, so that’s all right.” Car- 
ruthers was a fellow-excavator attached to a camp at Mem- 
phis. 

“Then I’d love to go,” Meg said. “I haven’t danced for 
ages, but I left my ‘gay rags’ at Luxor.” 

“I’ll send Abdul for them,” Freddy said, “and you can 
go to Assuan early to-morrow and get your traps in order. 
I don’t want a fright, mind — the tourists dress like any- 
thing.” 

Meg laughed. “I’ll do my best, but don’t expect too 
much of travelled garments.” 

While she was speaking quite naturally and with genuine 
interest* about the ball, a vision was forming itself before 
her eyes, her visitor of the night before ; the dark sad eyes 
and the emaciated face of the heretic Pharaoh became ex- 
traordinarily clear. It usurped her mind so completely that 
she found it difficult to pay attention to the subject which 
she was discussing. 

She tried to banish the influence, but failed. She had 
forgotten the name which Michael gave to the God whom 
the Pharaoh had so greatly loved. She could not even recol- 
lect the words of his message. Only his luminous form and 
melancholy eyes were there in the sunlight before her. 

She began to wonder which vision was the more fantastic 
and unreal — the picture which she had visualized of the 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


61 


grand ballroom in the magnificent hotel at Assuan, filled 
with men and women in modern evening dress, or the figure 
of the ancient Pharaoh, as he had come to her in this bar- 
ren valley in the western desert. 

“Wake up, Meg!” Freddy said. “Dreaming seems in- 
fectious.” 

Meg knew what her brother meant. So did Mike, 

“Don’t forget that the practical Lampton mind is a jolly 
good thing. That old drifter won’t like living in a tent or 
a caravan, on twopence a day, when he’s sixty!” Freddy 
lit his cigarette ; he had finished breakfast. “You’ll come, 
of course?” His eyes spoke to Mike. “Gad, what a top- 
ping morning it is !” 

“Rather !” Mike said abstractedly. “Unless you want 
me to stay here?” 

“Carruthers will be all right here alone — ^he knows the 
place as well as I do.” Freddy’s voice did not express much 
eagerness for Michael’s company at the ball, and Michael 
knew the reason. Freddy was unable to decide in his own 
mind whether it was wiser to urge Mike to go and let him 
see Meg as Freddy knew he would see her in all her pretty 
finery, and let him enjoy the pleasure of her perfect danc- 
ing, or allow him to stay behind and so avoid the risk of 
meeting the woman whom he knew would be there. He had 
seen her name in the visitors’ list in the Egyptian Gazette, 
She was staying at the Cataract Hotel at Assuan. He was 
so divided as to the wisdom of Michael’s going or staying 
that his response had lacked his usual note of sincerity. 

“Then I’ll go,” Michael said, for into his mind had 
floated a vision of Margaret dressed in her ball-finery and 
dancing as Freddy’s sister would dance — dancing with other 
men. 

“Then that settles it,” Freddy said. “We’ll go a buster 
to-morrow night and we’ll make up for it after. You can 
begin real work next week, Meg — sorting and painting, if 
you care to.” 

When Freddy was ready to start off* to his work, Meg 


52 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


went with him. It was too early for the sun to be danger- 
ous and the air was deliciously fresh and clean. Meg’s 
hands were dug deep down into the pockets of her white 
silk jersey, just as her brother’s were dug deep down into 
the pockets of his white flannel coat. Meg’s long limbs 
looked almost as clean-cut as her brother’s in her closely- 
fitting white skirt. As Michael watched them walk off to- 
gether, he said to himself, ‘^They are absurdly alike ; they 
are like twins — they see eye to eye and think mind to 
mind.” 

As he said the words his sense of Meg contradicted his 
last remark, for he knew that he could say things to Meg 
M^hich Freddy would not understand ; he knew that if they 
had thought mind to mind he would not have asked her to 
keep the secret which they now held between them. 

Thoughts full of tender affection for Freddy made him 
feel happily contented; to have such a friend and to be 
allowed to work with him was a privilege deserving of sin- 
cere thanks. For a few moments he stood lost in gratitude 
and praise. These dreaming moments, about which he was 
so often good-naturedly chaffed, were not entirely wasted; 
they gave him the spiritual food his nature demanded. The 
desert holds many prayers. 

‘‘Why so abstracted to-day, Meg.^^” Freddy said, as they 
reached the site of excavation. Margaret was no great 
talker at any time, but there was something new in her 
silence this morning and Freddy felt it. 

“Am I abstracted I didn’t know it.” 

“A bit off colour.? Are you feeling the sun? You’d bet- 
ter go back before it gets any hotter and rest more to-day, 
if we’re to go to the dance to-morrow.” 

“Oh, I adore the sun,” Meg said. “I believe in my 
former incarnation I worshipped it.” 

“A disciple of Akhnaton ? I think we all are, if we only 
knew it. Poor Akhnaton !” 

“Oh, Freddy, who was this Akhnaton? No, I forgot — 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 53 

don’t tell me.” Her voice, for Meg, was emotional, excited. 
‘T want to spell things out for myself.” 

^What do you know about him?” Freddy said. ^‘I 
thought you hadn’t begun reading yet? Has Mike been 
preaching his religion? Mike’s dotty on Akhnaton — his 
religion’s all right, but as a king he was an ass.” 

‘^No, no, Mike hasn’t told me anything about him and I 
really would rather come to him in his proper place in his- 
tory. I mustn’t dip, though it’s a great temptation, but it 
spoils serious work.” 

They had stopped and were looking down from the 
height of the desert to the level of the excavation which was 
furthest advanced. Things had developed greatly since 
Margaret’s first visit. Now she was able to see that they 
were at work upon a vast building of some description. The 
enormous size and the beautiful cutting of the stones and 
the exquisite strength of the mortarless masonry indicated 
noble proportions. 

^^How interesting it’s getting!” she said. love these 
blocks of evenly-hewn stone in the sand — they look so mys- 
terious, and eternal.” 

want to take the men off this, if we’re going to Assuan 
to-morrow — it’s getting too hot.” 

^^Why?” 

‘^Becaus^ there were indications yesterday that we had 
struck a sort of rubbish-heap of things which had been 
turned out of the tomb.” 

^‘What kind of things?” 

don’t know yet ... all sorts of things. Probably 
the relatives of the dead threw them out when they visited 
the tomb from time to time; just as we throw away faded 
wreaths and flowers, they threw away accumulations of 
broken vases and offerings.” 

^^And you don’t want the workmen to know?” 

“I want to be on hand when they are cleaning it up, 
and it can’t all be done in one day. They are quite capable 
of sneaking back here before the gaphir^s about in the 


54 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


morning, to see what they can pick up, to sell to the visitors 
in Luxor. It’s a great temptation.” 

“1 suppose they consider the tiny things they find far 
more theirs than ours.?^” 

‘‘1 suppose they do, but, mind you, the Museum in Cairo 
gets its pick and the choice of all that’s found in Egypt 
in the various sites of excavation.” 

‘‘Oh !” Margaret said. “I didn’t know that.” 

“Certainly it does,” he said, “and rightly, too, although 
nothing would be saved or be in any museum if it wasn’t for 
the various European schools. The natives would eventu- 
ally plunder and steal everything, and if the excavation 
had all been in the hands of the Egyptian Government, 
heaven knows where the treasures would be to-day! As it 
is, Cairo has the finest Egyptian museum of antiquities in 
the world.” 

“Akhnaton was buried in this valley .?” 

“Yes, in later days in his mother’s tomb. His first 
burial-place was at Tel-el-Amarna.” 

“How odd! That’s what he told me last night,” Meg 
said dreamily, almost unconsciously. She could hear again 
the sad voice of the Pharaoh, saying, “I was laid in my 
mother’s tomb in this valley.” 

Freddy looked quickly up at her; he had left her to 
descend to the workmen’s level. “So Mike has told you 
about him, then ? I thought he would !” 

Margaret blushed to the roots of her hair. “Just one or 
two things — nothing really very interesting.” 

“I knew he would, sooner or later. He’s got Akhnaton 
on the brain.” 

“He really has scarcely mentioned him to me — never until 
last night.” 

“Go back, Meg,” Freddy said, as he disappeared down a 
deep channel in the excavations. “It’s getting too hot for 
no hat. You must be careful — you can’t afford to play 
tricks with the sun in Egypt. It’s better to worship it like 
Akhnaton than to trifle with it.” 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


55 


^^All right, Fll go,” Meg said, and as she went she won- 
dered how it came to pass that Akhnaton was both a sun- 
worshipper and a devout believer in the Kingdom of God 
which is within us. 


CHAPTER VII 

The ballroom at Assuan was a wonderful sight. Margaret 
had never been to a more brilliant dance. The dresses of 
the women amazed her ; they were so costly and beautiful. 
The air of Egypt is so dry that their delicacy of texture 
had been uninjured by travel. The gay uniforms of the 
English officers, the Orders of the officials, looked their best 
in the vast room, whose architecture and decorations were 
a fine reproduction of ancient Egyptian art. 

Margaret was radiantly happy ; she loved beauty and the 
dignity of vast surroundings. In Egypt it seemed to her 
that everything was done on an imposing and noble scale, 
everything except the little mud villages of the desert, her 
^‘dear little brown homes in the East.” Happiness made 
her appear very lovely — indeed, she was beautiful that 
night and many people asked who the charming girl was, 
who danced so well and who looked so happy. 

She danced very often with Freddy, so naturally people 
began to say that at last Lampton had been ^‘caught.” She 
had danced very often, too, with Michael, and even Freddy’s 
step had not suited her so well. With Michael there was 
something more than mere perfection of dancing ; there was 
the added sympathy of mind as well as body. When his 
arms encircled her for the first time and Margaret felt him 
steering her gently but firmly through the well-filled room, 
such a perfect sense of rest pervaded her senses that a sud- 
den desire to cry, just softly and happily, came to her. 
Happy Margaret! 

Neither of them cared to speak while they were dancing ; 


56 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


they remained as silent as they had done when they stood 
together in the vast stretch of the great Sahara, but they 
were conscious — and happily so — of each other’s enjoy- 
ment. Could two young people be so close to each other, 
two people so greatly in sympathy with one another, and 
not know something of the thought in each other’s minds? 

‘^Will you let me take you in to supper?” was all that 
Michael said, at the end of the last dance which they were 
to have together. He handed her reluctantly over to her 
waiting partner as he spoke. 

Meg nodded her assent and smiled radiantly over her 
partner’s shoulder as she whirled off. 

Her beautiful white shoulders showed up the duskiness of 
her hair; her head was distinguished and arrestive. As 
Michael was watching her and waiting for her to come 
round the room again to where he was standing, so that 
their eyes might meet, a gentle, caressing hand was laid on 
his own and a voice said: 

“Ah ! now I know why you have not looked for me. Who 
-is she.?^” 

Michael started. The low, tender voice instantly thrilled 
every nerve in his body, while at the same moment an over- 
whelming desire to slip away and lose himself amongst the 
dancers came over him. 

“She is a fine-looking creature,” the voice went on, “but 
that type gets coarse at forty, don’t you think?” 

Michael swung round quickly and faced the lovely woman 
who had spoken to him. Her figure, in spite of its childish 
slimness, suggested not youthful purity but a sensuous 
grace. In her soft, flesh-tinted gown of chiffon, which left 
her arms and neck quite bare, a dress which merely sug- 
gested a veiled covering for her tiny body, she was tempt- 
ingly fe minine. To most men she would have been irresistible, 
for she was as supple and straight as a child of thirteen. 

Her eyes gazed familiarly into Michael’s; they were in- 
viting and exquisitely lovely. Even Mrs. Mervill’s bitterest 
enemies had to admit the charm of her eyes. Hard and 


57 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 

cruel they could be, just like the uncut amethysts which in 
colour they resembled — eyes of a deep, bluish purple. They 
had looked their cruellest a moment ago, for envy had 
crossed her path. Every inch of her tiny person was envi- 
ous of the girl who had smiled over her partner’s shoulder 
to Michael Amory: She was envious because she could see 
at a glance that Margaret was all that was fine and clean 
and noble in womanhood. The girl whom Michael Amory 
had been looking at would always get what was best in men^ 
while she could only get what was worst. 

^^My partner has had to leave me,” she said to Michael, 
for he had paid no attention to her remarks about Mar- 
garet. ‘‘He had a touch of fever; it came on quite sud- 
denly. Will you take me out of the ball-room?” 

They had moved off together, Michael unable to help 
himself ; he could not allow her to go alone. 

“If you aren’t dancing, let us go and sit out on the bal- 
cony — it’s too lovely to be indoors. Now, isn’t it?” she said 
as they reached the wide covered loggia, dotted with palms 
and basket-chairs and small tables, which looked over the 
black rocks of the first cataract on the Nile, a scene which in 
all Egypt has no equal, for it is unique and extraordinary. 

Beyond the river, with its black rocks, which showed in 
the water like the indefinite forms of seals or shoals of 
swirling porpoises, there was the bright yellow sand of the 
desert, which led into a world of primitive silence, while 
above them and all around them were the stars and the night 
of Egypt. 

Mrs. Mervill had left the ball-room early, because she 
knew that the balcony would be almost empty during the 
first part of the evening. 

“Isn’t having this all to ourselves better than dancing in 
that crowd? This is Egypt.” 

“It’s beautiful,” Michael said, as he arranged the cush- 
ions in her chair to suit her taste, which was scarcely in 
keeping with the views of a dignified woman. When he 
had finished, Mrs. Mervill let her hand slip down his coat- 


58 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


sleeve — she had laid it there as she spoke to him — until it 
rested on his wrist; her fingers were caressing. 

‘^Tell me,” she said, looking up into his face with a win- 
ning and soft expression, ‘‘what have you been doing with 
yourself since we parted You have been much in my 
thoughts — never out of them, indeed.” 

“My usual work in the camp,” Michael said. “Its inter- 
est always increases, and although it seems pretty much 
the same every day to ordinary people, to us it is full of 
variety.” 

“Lucky man ! We poor women have no such distractions. 
I want to live in the desert,” she said eagerly. “I want to 
sleep in the open under these stars.” 

Anyone might have made the same remark wdth no 
arriere pensee in their words. Mrs. Mervill could not. Her 
remark contained an invitation ; Michael knew it. 

“Can you never get away.^” she asked. “It would be my 
expedition, if you would run it for me.” 

Michael moved from her side, with the pretence of draw- 
ing a chair to within speaking distance of her. She had 
reluctantly to let his wrist slip from her fingers. 

^^Say you will arrange it,” she pleaded. “For weeks I 
have felt the call of the desert and you know you’d love to 
come.” 

“I can’t do it,” Michael said, almost sternly. “Please 
don’t tempt me ... I have work to do.” 

“Oh, but I will tempt you !” She laughed the soft, low 
laugh of passion. “By every means in my power. With 
you it is so difficult to know what will tempt you most. 
Am I to appeal to the mystic side of you, or to the human 
I think the human Michael will suit me best, the Michael 
who longs to let himself go and enjoy the fullness of Egypt 
and the wonders of the desert!” 

“Don’t appeal to any part of me,” he said quickly. 
“Leave me to do my work in the best possible way — try not 
to act as a disturbing influence.” 

“Then I have been a disturbing influence.?^” Michael’s 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 59 

voice had betrayed the fact that his work had not been ac- 
complished without difficulty. 

‘Wes,” he said, for the spirit of truth was always upper- 
most in Michael. “For some days after I left you the last 
time I found great difficulty in concentrating my mind on 
my work. ... I was dissatisfied.” 

“Then I succeeded!” The amethyst eyes, devoid of all 
hardness now, caressed Michael and disturbed his nerves. 
The woman was very beautiful, and he was conscious that 
her mind was set on her desire to win him. He knew that 
it was not love; he knew that their intimacy was not one 
of wholesome friendship. He was becoming more and more 
awake to the fact that this wealthy woman, who looked like 
a child but for the expression of her eyes, had taken an 
unreasoning desire to have him for her lover. In a measure 
he could not but feel flattered, for with her beauty and 
wealth she could have had the attention of better men than 
himself. He was too generous in his judgment of women 
to attribute her desire to the lowest motives, the prospect 
of enjoying through another the innocence which she had 
lost herself so long ago. 

^‘I tried to reach you, Mike. I used every eflTort of !my 
will-power, or mind-power, or whatever power you like to 
call it. I insisted on your feeling me. I sent myself out 
of myself to you.” 

“Why did you do it.?” he said. He had leaned forward 
and had laid his hand on the cushions of her chair, at the 
back of her head. His distressed voice was less harsh. 

“Why did I do it.? Because, dear, I want you.” Her 
voice was low and wooing; it was one of her charms. 

Michael did not answer. His senses were beginning to 
throb. The sound of a native earthen drum, with its sensual 
thud, thud, thudding, and the watery note of a key striking 
a glass bottle, as an accompaniment to the slow measures 
of bare feet on the deck of a Nile boat, added an undefin- 
able touch of Oriental passion to the scene. 

Michael tried to draw away his hand, but she caught it 


60 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


and pulled his arm round her neck and held his long fingers 
imprisoned under her chin. 

He protested. The thud, thud, thud of the darabukkeh 
below kept time with the throbbing of his pulses, while the 
subconscious visualizing of the body-movements of the 
Sudanese dancers aided and abetted the woman in her 
designs. 

“You know, dear, you are behaving very foolishly. I 
must never see you again if you do this sort of thing. It 
can only lead to terrible unhappiness for us both.” 

She gently kissed his fingers, pressing her teeth against 
his knuckles — with all her education and fashionable clothes, 
a creature as primitive as any tent-dweller in the desert. 

“Don’t say you won’t see me again. I won’t be foolish, 
I promise. But I am very lonely, you don’t know how 
lonely, Michael.” 

“Poor little woman !” he said breathlessly ; he was genu- 
inely sorry for her. If her nature craved for love and 
affection, it was hard for her to live as she did, without it. 

“It’s Egypt,” she said, “Egypt and the desert. I want 
you all alone, Michael, in the loneliest part of the loneliest 
desert in the world, and I want as many kisses as there are 
stars in the heavens — ^kisses that only my love and Egypt 
can teach you how to give!” 

“I must leave you,” Michael said again, “if you will 
speak like that.” 

He got up to go. Mrs. Mervill also rose from her re- 
clining position on her long deck-chair, and sat upright. 

“I do, I do!” she said, while she held up her beautiful 
lips to his face. “There is no one to see, there is no one to 
care ! I want a kiss for every star there is in the heavens.” 

The man could bear it no longer; all Egypt was tempt- 
ing him. He bent his head and kissed her lips. 

From the river below came the long cries to Allah of the 
Moslem boatmen and the clear music of an ’ood or lute ; the 
deep note of the native drums had been silenced. It had 
given way to the song of an Arab tenor. The music of the 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


61 


^oody whose seven double strings, made of lamb’s gut, are 
played with a slip of a vulture’s feather, drifted through 
the clear air. The tenor song was an outpouring of a 
lover’s full heart. The passion of the night had triumphed. 

At their feet lay the black rocks and the swirling waters 
of Egypt’s ^gean and the buried city of Syene, and in 
the distance, yet surely affecting their senses with its 
tragedy and grace, was Philse, the fairy sanctuary of the 
Nile. In the submerged temple of Philae lies the bridal 
chamber of the beloved Osiris and his wife Isis. 

None of all this was lost upon Michael, whose nature was 
ever turned to the concert pitch of his surroundings. 
Assuan affected him as a gorgeous orchestra affects a lover 
of Wagner. But the sound of the hotel band, bringing a 
waltz to a close, made Mrs. Mervill leave her lounge-chair 
and seat herself circumspectly on a more upright one. 
Michael did not sit down; he wandered about, speaking to 
her abruptly and unhappily at brief intervals. 

She was answering one of his questions when Margaret 
Lampton, flushed and radiant with the excitement of danc- 
ing, came upon the scene ; her partner was a little behind 
her. Mrs. Mervill neither saw nor heard her footsteps; 
Michael had both seen and heard her. Margaret, thinking 
that he was alone, walked quickly towards him. Suddenly 
she heard a hidden voice say caressingly: 

will promise you- anything you like, Michael mine, and 
keep it, too, if you will try to see me as often as ever you 
can. Remember how lonely I am, and that I shall live for 
your visits.” 

Margaret stopped. Egypt had become as cold as the 
Arctic. She felt lost. Her intention had been to remind 
Michael that it was almost supper-time. Her partner was 
now by her side. He knew Michael Amory and spoke to 
him. 

Mrs. Mervill had risen from her chair and as she came 
forward, Margaret hated her, even while she thought that 
die was the fairest and most beautiful thing she had ever 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


seen. Michael introduced the two women to each other, 
excellent foils as they were in their beauty and type. 

As Margaret gave one of her steadfast honest looks right 
into the eyes of the delicately-tinted woman in front of her, 
she was conscious of an appalling dislike and fear of her. 
She was equally conscious of the woman’s antagonism to 
herself, although her words had been charming and friendly. 

‘Tf she wasn’t beautiful and tiny, I’d like to wring her 
neck and throw her to the crocodiles below !” 

This was what might be interpreted as Margaret’s true 
feelings as she answered Mrs. Mervill’s question and suc- 
ceeded in making some banal remarks about the view and 
the magnificence of the hotel. When she had said all that 
politeness demanded of her, she turned away, a trifle dis- 
consolately. 

‘Tlease wait one moment. Miss Lampton,” Michael said. 
‘T think this is the supper-interval. Mrs. Mervill,” he 
said, ^‘can I take you back to your partner.?^ I am engaged 
to Miss Lampton for supper.” 

‘^No, thanks,” she said, ‘T didn’t engage myself to any- 
one for supper.” Her eyes plainly expressed the fact that 
they had hitherto at these dances always enjoyed the sup- 
per-interval together. ‘^Will you be very kind and send a 
waiter out here with a glass of champagne and some sand- 
wiches.?^ That is all I want.” 

Michal looked disturbed. “But I don’t like leaving you 
alone.” 

“I prefer the company of the stars,” she said, “to just 
anybody — really I do. I never feel that one comes to 
Egypt for these hotel dances.” This was meant for Mar- 
garet, to make her feel frivolous and vulgar. 

Margaret refused to accept it. “My brother and I have 
been dancing every dance and every extra and forgetting 
all about Egypt. Have you .?^’ She turned to Mike. 

“No, I have been sitting this last one out with Mrs. 
Mervill. She feels tired. And certainly Egypt is very 
much here.” He pointed to the scene before them. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 63 

^‘Yes, quite another Egypt,” Margaret said. “Egypt 
has so many souls.” 

“And I have to be a little careful,” Mrs. Mervill said, “of 
over-fatigue.” 

“I am sorry,” Margaret said, while she inwardly noted 
the woman’s perfect health. The slender feminine appear- 
ance of her rival had nothing in common with ill-health ; a 
blush-rose bud was not more softly and evenly tinted. She 
suggested to Margaret something good to eat — pink and 
white ice-creams mingled together in a crystal bowl. 

Healthily devoid as Margaret was of sex-consciousness, 
it was curious that this first close inspection of Mrs. Mer- 
vill should have told her what she never dreamed of before, 
or even thought about — ^that she loved Michael Amory. 
This woman was going to come between herself and Michael ; 
that there was great intimacy between them she felt certain, 
also that Michael, even though he might care for the 
woman, was not himself under her influence. She had never 
seen him look as he looked now. 

The partner who had brought Margaret out on to the 
balcony constituted himself as Mrs. MervilPs cavalier. He 
was immensely struck by her beauty and was inwardly over- 
joyed when Michael Amory introduced him to her. He had 
not engaged himself for supper because there had been no 
one with whom he cared to spend the time, except Mar- 
garet, and she was engaged to Michael. Now that he had 
obtained an introduction to Mrs. Mervill, he was de- 
lighted to attend to her wants. 

If Michael Amory had seen Millicent MervilPs attitude 
towards her companion, he might have felt — and very 
naturally — a certain amount of vanity. Born with little 
or no sense of honour or morals, she was extremely fastidi- 
ous. No one could have been more selective. Ninety-nine 
per cent, of the men she met bored her not to tears, but to 
rudeness; for the hundredth she might feel an unbridled 
passion. 

Margaret and her companion were seated at a little 


64 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


supper-table in the immense dining-room of the hotel, a 
room which had been built after the proportions and deco- 
rated in the manner of an Egyptian temple. Their table 
was close to a column, which was decorated from pedestal to 
capital with the most familiar mythological figures of 
ancient Egypt. Tall lotus flowers with their green leaves 
decorated the lower portions of it. The whole thing cer- 
tainly was an amazingly clever reproduction of one of the 
ancient columns of the famous hypostyle hall at Karnak. A 
gayer scene could hardly be imagined, for the bright 
colours of the ancient decorations ^ad been faithfully 
copied. 

Margaret had been talking rather more than was her 
wont to Michael, about things which neither really inter- 
ested her nor were in sympathy with their mood. Their 
former intimate silence had given place to a banal conver- 
sation, which hurt them, one as much as the other, while 
they kept it up. 

The nicest part of the evening, for so Meg had thought 
that it would be, was proving a failure, a dire and pitiful 
failure. The only thing to do was to accept Michael under 
the new conditions and get what pleasure she could out of 
the magnificent scene. The Egyptian servants, in their 
long white garments and high red tarbushes, the Nubians, 
in their full white drawers and bright green sashes and 
turbans, were moving silently about, administering as only 
native servants can administer to the wants of the fashion- 
ably-gowned women and brightly-uniformed men who filled 
the magnificent hall. 

“How absurd that woman looks,” Margaret said, “sitting 
with her back to that figure of Isis.” She knew now at a 
glance the goddess Isis as she was most familiarly repre- 
sented. “I do hope I don’t look quite so grotesque !” 

Michael looked at the woman, whose hair was decorated 
with an enormous egrette’s crest, in the manner of a Red 
Indian’s head-dress. Margaret knew quite well that she 
herself did not in any way look grotesque; since she had 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


65 


been in Egypt she had conceived a horror of the eccentricl* 
ties of Western fashions, therefore her speech was insincere. 

‘‘Of course you don’t,” Michael said absently. “You look 
just awfully nice.” He felt shy and blushed as he spoke, 
for he knew that he had severed himself from Margaret by 
an unspeakable gulf, that he had now no right to say any- 
thing intimate to her. Earlier in the evening he could have 
said with frank enthusiasm how beautiful he thought her, 
if an occasion like the present had offered itself. 

They were now at the ice-creams, wonderful concoctions 
with glowing lights inside them, and their futile conversa- 
tion had dribbled out, but the silence which had fallen upon 
them was constrained ; it had nothing in common with the 
old happy silence of mental sympathy, the silence of united 
minds. 

Margaret had still two dances to give Michael, and she 
wondered how they were to get through them. The supper 
had proved heavy and dragging. It seemed scarcely pos- 
sible that they were the two people who had stood, delight- 
ing in each other’s companionship, on the high ridge of the 
Sahara desert two evenings ago; that it was this man to 
whom she had told her wonderful dream. She wondered if 
he had forgotten it. 

As she thought of her dream, their eyes met. MichaePs 
dropped' quickly. With Mrs. Mervill’s kisses still burning 
into his soul, he banished the thought of the divine King. 
The seed of evil which she had planted in the garden of his 
soul many weeks ago had been watered and nourished to- 
night. It had sprung forth like the green blades on the 
banks of the Nile after the inundation. 

As Michael’s eyes dropped, Margaret took her courage 
in both hands and said as brightly as she could, “We’re not 
enjoying ourselves particularly, are we? We seem to have 
lost each other. Shall we cut our two dances and try to 
find ourselves again in the valley? I hate this sort of 
thing.” 

“If you wish it.” Michael’s voice was reproachful. 

5 


66 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


‘‘Do be honest — you know I’m boring you. You have 
lots of friends here, and I can get partners.” 

“Things do seem to have taken a wrong turn,” he said, 
“but it was not of my willing.” Inwardly he cursed the 
hour he had ever come. She would never believe that it had 
been to see her in her evening-dress and to enjoy the rap- 
ture of dancing with her. 

“We are neither of us much good at pretending,” Mar- 
garet said. “But never mind — better luck next time ! And 
we had some lovely dances in the early part of the even- 
ing.” 

Her words, without meaning it, implied that before she 
had been introduced to Mrs. Mervill, they had been happy. 
They had risen at Margaret’s instigation from their table 
and were wending their way out of the supper-room. 
Michael was drifting towards the wide balcony, towards 
the fresh cool air of the river. 

“No,” Meg said determinedly, “not there.” A vision of 
Mrs. Mervill, pink and fair and seductive, had risen before 
her, the rose-leaf creature with the hard eyes, who had so 
abruptly broken her sympathy with Michael. 

Michael, without speaking, quickly turned the other 
way. He led her through the big entrance to the front 
door of the hotel. The view was ugly and uninteresting, 
like the surroundings of any huge Western public offices 
or government buildings. The glory of the hotel was the 
view from the balcony, overlooking the Nile, and its superb 
interior decorations. 

“The old trade-route to Nubia lies back there,” Michael 
said, indicating the desert, which lay out of sight at the 
back of the hotel. 

“The old route to ‘golden-treasured Nubia’?” Margaret 
said. “Fancy, so close to this fashionable hotel — who would 
ever dream it !” 

“The caravan-route to Nubia — the Kush of the Bible — 
an immortal road. To me the word Nubia is full of sug- 
gestion.” 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


67 


There was something so distant in the tone of MichaePs 
voice as he spoke, that Margaret found little pleasure in 
hearing what he had to tell her. How delightful he could 
have been upon such a subject as the old trade-route to 
Nubia she knew only too well, so well that she was not 
going to let herself be hurt by his aloof way of mention- 
ing it. 

‘^Egypt to-night,” she said, “for me means a big ball and 
gay dresses. I have lost the other sense of Egypt.” She 
turned up her eyes to the heavens. “Except for the heav- 
ens,” she said, “I really might have been at the Carlton 
Hotel in London, at an Egyptian fete held there, or some- 
thing of the kind.” 

“As you said, Egypt has so many souls, but its heavens 
have only one. The best starlight night at home is a poor, 
poor affair compared to this.” 

Before he had finished speaking Freddy appeared and 
claimed Margaret for a cfance. She left Michael almost 
gladly, yet hating the feeling that they were still as far 
apart as they had been when they sat down to supper. 

What a strange night it had been ! The one half pure 
joy and the other certainly not happiness. 

Alone in the open space in front of the hotel, Michael 
stood and cursed his own weakness. Why had he stooped 
to those lips ? Why had he allowed himself to be unworthy 
of his intimacy with Margaret? He was sorry for Mrs. 
Mervill, for he believed her stories about her husband’s 
drunkenness and degrading habits, as he almost believed 
that she had for some strange reason fallen in love with 
himself. He wished with all his might that women were 
nicer to one another, so that one of them, a woman like 
Margaret, for instance, might have given this lonely, lovely 
creature the affection and intimate friendship she craved 
for. Women shunned her and so she had to resort to men 
for the companionship and also for the affection she needed. 

Michael understood very well the pleasures of sympa- 
thetic friendships ; he was conscious that to himself human 


68 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


sympathy m^ant a very great deal, and so he felt sincerely 
sorry for the woman who was denied it. He liked the quiet 
places of the untrodden world; cities had no charm for 
him. But he needed human sympathy in his solitude to 
make his enjoyment complete. He felt sorely annoyed 
with the fates which made it impossible for him to give 
Mrs. Mervill all that she asked of him and at the same time 
continue on the footing on which he had been with Mar- 
garet. 

And how was It that he could not? How was It that 
Margaret had instantly divined that there was more than 
an ordinary or desirable intimacy between Mrs. Mervill and 
himself.^ How was it that he had felt dishonoured and 
ashamed ? 

He had to return to the ball-room to find his partner for 
the next dance. As he did so, he passed Mrs. Mervill, who 
was coming out of it. She looked at him with laughing 
eyes, a soft, beautiful creature, of supple movements, whose 
perfect lips had told him the promises which she was cap- 
able of fulfilling. If he had not known Margaret, what 
would he have done.'^ 

But Margaret held him. He knew that she was worth a 
thousand Mrs. Mervills, in spite of the latter’s more vivid 
beauty and her quick wit. For Mrs. Mervill was clever and 
could be extremely witty and amusing when she liked. Her 
daring tongue stopped at very little, but it had the gift of 
suggestion, which always saved her stories or repartees from 
indelicacy or vulgarity. 

Margaret, who had offered him nothing but friendship, 
stood out in his mind as one of the women with whom it 
was a privilege for any man to be on intimate terms. In 
his thoughts of her, Margaret was high and strong and 
pure. When his mind dwelt on her, it soared; when it 
dwelt on Mrs. Mervill, it grovelled. He did not wish to 
grovel : it was not in his nature to do so ; It took a woman 
such as Mrs. Mervill to bring his lower self to the surface. 
He hated himself for even unconsciously condemning her 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


69 


and he tried always to remember her charming moods, the 
hours they had spent together when they first met on the 
gay pleasure-boats on the Nile. Those were the days when 
the clever woman hid from the man whom she had selected 
her baser nature. During those guarded days she had been 
gay and amusing and apparently as innocent as a school- 
girl. It was only after a considerable number of meetings 
and many exchanges of thought had passed between them, 
that she began to show her hand, or dared to convey to 
him in a hundred insinuating ways and expressions the real 
nature of her feelings for him. Very grudgingly and very 
reluctantly Michael had to admit to himself that she had 
fallen in his estimation, that he would not be sorry if they 
were never to meet again. Yet he was not strong enough 
to cut himself off from her ; her appeal to his pity stood in 
his way. 

He had never met any woman before in the least like her. 
Her fearless audacity had at first, just at first, somewhat 
amused, as it amazed him. He had scarcely credited its be- 
ing genuine. As she owed nothing to her husband, or so 
she said, she saw no reason why she should not live the life 
of a wealthy bachelor, who enjoyed it to the full. What 
was sauce for the gander was sauce for the goose. 

To gain any hold on Michael’s affections, she had recog- 
nized that she must go carefully. It was her role to let 
him think that her passion for him was a totally new thing 
in her life, that she had at last found the man who could 
help her to be the woman she longed to be. With her 
knowledge of mankind, she knew how to awaken and keep 
alive in Michael the only element in his character upon 
which she could work, the very element he strove to banish 
and subdue. 

Later on In the evening she sought him out, because she 
had discovered that Margaret Lampton was living in her 
brother’s camp and that she was in daily companionship 
with Michael. Freddy had told her this to anger her. He 


70 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


was proud of his sister’s beauty and pleased that Mrs. Mer- 
vill had seen her admired. 

“Michael,” Mrs. Mervill said, “that dark girl is in love 
with you. She hates me.” ^ 

“Don’t talk nonsense!” Michael said. “Why will you 
spoil our interesting conversation by reverting to a forbid- 
den topic 

They had been talking intellectually and seriously for 
quite half an hour. Mrs. Mervill was a great reader, and 
she had determined to place herself in a position to talk 
intelligently, if not learnedly, to Michael about things 
Egyptian. She had been reading what Ebers had to say 
about the tragedy of Isis and Osiris being the foundation 
of many latter-day Egyptian romances. It had even found 
its way into The Thousand and One Nights. 

Mrs. Mervill was much more word-fluent than Margaret. 
Often her imagery was charming. 

“Because it fills my heart, Michael. It is the background 
of everything. I saw the birth of hatred in her eyes — she 
has never hated before.” 

“I don’t think she knows what hate means,” he said, “and 
I wish you would leave her alone.” 

“I have not spoken about her before.” 

“You said she would be fat and coarse at forty.” 

Millicent Mervill caught his hands in hers. “You dear 
silly boy, so she will, both fat and complacent, but then I 
shall be thin and shrewish and shrivelled.” 

Michael laughed. “You are a tease!” he said good- 
naturedly. 

“ ‘The Rogue in Porcelain’ used to be my name at school. 
But tell me — how long is that dark-haired girl going to 
stay with her brother 

“I don’t know,” Michael said. “If she doesn’t feel the 
heat, perhaps until he retunis to England and the camp 
breaks up.” 

Mrs. Mervill clenched her pretty teeth. “And you ex- 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 71 

pect me to be good and quiet and submissive and stay 
here?” 

‘T want you to be reasonable.” 

^‘That’s out of the question — I very seldom am, and I am 
not going to be to please Miss Lampton, I can tell you!” 

‘‘Then what are you going to do?” He could not be 
hard on the woman for loving him ; he wished he could help 
her and induce her to be reasonable. If she had been free, 
he would have felt himself bound to marry her. 

“I will arrange something,” she said. “I don’t know 
what.” 

“What sort of thing?” he said. “Nothing foolish! Do 
look at things dispassionately.” 

“I won’t!” she said. Her face was upraised to the stars. 
“I won’t give you up to that dark-haired girl.” 

He swung round and spoke roughly. “Don’t you know 
I can’t be yours, and you can’t be mine?” 

“And you want me not to be a dog in the manger, while 
you enjoy the next best thing that comes along!” 

“I never said so. Your mind jumps at conclusions. I 
hate such ideas and conversation. I wish you would stop it.” 

“I will be worse than a dog in the manger,” she said, “if 
you make love to that girl in the desert.” 

“Hush!” Michael cried. His grasp of her wrist hurt 
her. “Hush! You will make me hate you.” 

“No, you won’t, Michael,” she said, “because you have 
kissed me. Words were made to hide our feelings, kisses 
to reveal them.” She suddenly paused and looked as sad 
and innocent as a corrected child. “I would be a saint, if 
you would let yourself love me, Michael.” 

“What would be the good?” he said. “You belong to 
some one else.” 

“A nice sort of belonging!” she said, disconsolately. 
“He doesn’t care a scrap what becomes of me.” 

“Can’t you possibly divorce him?” Michael did not 
mean that he would marry her If she did; his mind was 
groping for some solution of the problem. 


72 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


Millicent Mervill remained silent. ‘T could let him di- 
vorce me,” she said at last. 

‘^Don’t !” Michael said intuitively. His voice amused the 
woman. 

“I don’t mean to,” she said. ‘^Why should any woman 
be divorced because she lives the same life as her husband 
does when he is apart from her.?^” 

‘^You don’t, and aren’t going to,” Michael said earn- 
estly. 

‘T would, Michael, with you — only with you.” 

‘T wish you could have been friends with Miss Lampton 
instead of hating her,” he said sadly. 

‘Touf !” Millicent Mervill cried. ‘‘Thanks for your Miss 
Lampton — I can do without her friendship ! I prefer hat- 
ing her.” 

“You are so perverse and foolish and . . .” Mich- 
ael paused “ ... and difficult.” 

“No, loving, you mean, loving, Michael — that’s all I’m 
difficult about.” 


CHAPTER VHI 

They were back in the valley again and splendid work was 
going on at the camp. Another two weeks’ hard digging 
had done wonders, and Margaret and Michael had found 
each other again. 

In the dawn, two mornings after the dance, when the 
mysterious figures, heralding the light, were abandoning 
themselves to their God on the desert sands, Mike had seen 
Margaret standing at her hut-door, watching, as he himself 
so often watched, for the glory which was of Aton to flood 
the desert with light. Meg’s eyes the day before had told 
Michael that she was unhappy ; he knew now that she had 
not slept. 

While the white figures were still bent earthwards and 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


73 

the little streak of light was scarcely more than visible, 
Michael went to her and asked her forgiveness. 

‘‘Forgive me,” he said. “I need forgiveness.” 

Meg took his hand. “I hate not being friends. Thank 
you.” 

“It made me miserable,” he said. 

“Then let’s forget. I was stupid. This is all too big 
and great for such smallness.” She indicated the coming 
of the unearthly light. 

“Thy dawning, O Aton,” Michael said. 

Margaret smiled. “He was very far from us at Assuan.” 

“He was there. I stifled my consciousness of him, Meg.” 

“Don’t,” she said. ^‘Let’s go forward.” 

“I know what you mean,” he said. “Regrets are weak, 
foolish.” 

“I don’t want to bring the hotel at Assuan into this 
valley. Let’s just watch the sun transform its infinite mys- 
tery into our waking, working, everyday world — if Egypt 
can be an every-day world.” 

“May I say Akhnaton’s beautiful hymn to you.^ It is 
about the sunrise. He must often have seen it just as we 
are seeing it now.” 

“Akhnaton’s Yes, do. How wonderfhl to think that 
he wrote hymns!” 

Michael began the famous hymn. “ ‘The world is in 
darkness, like the dead. Every lion cometh forth from his 
den ; all serpents sting. Darkness reigns.’ ” 

“We might substitute jackals,” Margaret said gently. 

“ ‘When thou risest in the horizon . . . the darkness is 
banished. Then in all the world they do their work. 

“ ‘All trees and plants flourish, the birds flutter in their 
marshes, all sheep dance upon their feet.’ ” 

“Oh,” Margaret said delightedly, “how like it is to the 
hundred and fourth Psalm ! Do you remember how David 
said: ‘The trees of the Lord are full of sap. . . . Where 
the birds make their nests, • . . The high hills are a re- 


74 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


fuge for the wild goats’? I think that’s how it goes. I 
love that Psalm,” 

‘^Yes,” Michael said, “verse for verse, the idea is abso- 
lutely similar and the similes are strikingly alike. The 
next verse is just as much alike. Listen. ... I am so glad 
you like it.” 

“First look,” Margaret said, “at that light. Yes, now 
go on — I love hearing it.” 

“ ‘The ships sail up stream and down stream alike. The 
fish in the river leap up before Thee and Thy rays are in 
the midst of the great sea. How manifold are Thy works. 
Thou didst create the earth according to Thy desire, men, 
all cattle, all that are upon the earth.’ ” 

“How extraordinarily like!” Margaret said. “How do 
you account for it? I suppose it is still allowed that David 
wrote the Psalms? Did he live before Akhnaton or after 
him?” She laughed softly. “Don’t scorn my ignorance. 
You see, I have kept my promise — I have read nothing at 
all on the subject.” 

“Akhnaton, you mean? Oh, before David, by about 
three hundred years. There are all sorts of theories on the 
subject. The commonest is that Akhnaton, having come 
of Syrian stock, on his mother’s side, may have got his in- 
spiration from some Syrian hymn, as David also may have 
done. I reject that theory. The whole of Akhnaton’s be- 
liefs and teachings prove the extraordinary originality of 
his ideas. He borrowed nothing ; God was his inspiration.” 

“You are going to tell me about him, about his work?” 

“Yes, soon, some day. Have you thought about him 
since?” Michael referred to the God of Whom Akhnaton 
was the manifestation, the interpreter. He always spoke of 
Akhnaton as a divine messenger. 

His voice betrayed a sense of regret, of unworthiness. 
Yet in his heart he knew that, weak as he had been, he had 
not sinned against the spirit of Akhnaton, that he realized 
even more fully his watchword, “Living in Truth.” Akh- 
naton’s love for every created being because of theSr 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


75 


creator filled Michael’s heart even more fully than it had 
done before. He had learned his own moral weakness, his 
own forgetfulness. Blame and criticism of even the na- 
tives’ shortcomings seemed to him reserved for someone 
more worthy than himself. They had simply not yet seen 
the Light; their evolution was more tardy; they were less 
fortunate. Some day all men would be ^‘Living in Truth.” 
Akhnaton’s dream would be realized. How impossible it 
is for our material selves to do without the help which is 
outside ourselves, that help which is our divine conscious- 
ness, Michael had learned over and over again. His lapses 
had not affected his beliefs. They were only parts of the 
struggle, the oldest struggle known to mankind, the strug- 
gle between Light and Darkness. Just as the Egyptians 
from the earliest days believed in the triumph of Osiris 
over Set, he knew that no thinking man could doubt the 
eventual triumph of all those who fight for the spiritual 
man. 

‘‘Yes, I have thought about him,” Margaret said. “And, 
last night I dreamed about him — my ...” she paused 
“. . . my wonderful visitor.” 

“What did you dream Michael said. “Do tell me.” 

The light was breaking over the valley — not the sun’s 
light, but the cold light of dawn. The “heat of Aton” was 
still withheld. 

A blush which was invisible to Michael tinged Meg’s 
clear skin. Her dream had been beautiful, vivid. It had 
illuminated her world again. 

“It was nothing very coherent. I saw no vision, as I did 
before.” Her words were, spoken guardedly. “It was the 
lesson the dream revealed.” 

“I should like to know, Meg.” 

“A voice seemed to wake me. It spoke to me of you. I 
was to help you . . . you were struggling.” 

“You can help me,” Mike said. “You have.” 

“It spoke of the oldest of all stories, the battle of light 
against darkness. It said that Egypt in the early days 


T6 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


worshipped light; in the days which followed light was 
swallowed up in the worship of false gods.” 

^^Osiris and Set — you know the legend — the fundamental 
ethics of all religions.” 

‘T know a little about it,” Margaret said. She paused. 

“Please go on . . . tell me everything.” 

“In dreams we are so vain, so wonderful . . . you know 
how it always is ! The ego in us has unlimited sway. In 
my dream I dreamed that my friendship was to be ‘light’; 
if I withdrew it, you would have darkness. What glorious 
vanity !” 

“Oh, Meg, it’s quite true ! Will you give me back your 
sympathy I . . .” he hesitated, “ . • • I am trying to 
be more worthy of it.” 

“We are friends,” she said. “I was foolish and con- 
ceited, my dream made me see how foolish. I had no right 

to . . 

He interrupted her. “Yes, you had . . . you weren’t 
foolish. Your sensibilities told you what was absolutely 
true. ... I would explain more if I could.” 

“No, don’t explain — things are explained. I thought I 
should find you here ; I wanted to begin the new day hap- 
pily. My dream made me see so very clearly that the 
world is made up of those who sit in darkness and those 
who sit in light, that thoughts are things. My thoughts 
were unjust, unkind, so my world was unkind, unjust. I 
made it.” 

“The light which is Aton,” Michael said. 

“If we wish to enjoy happiness, we must sit in the light. 
We must make our own happiness.” 

“In the fullness and glory of Aton.” 

“God, I suppose you mean,” Margaret said. 

“The one and only God Whom every human being has 
striven to worship in his or her odd way ever since the world 
began. There is God in every man’s heart. It doesn’t a 
bit matter what His symbol may be. Some races of man- 
kind have evolved higher forms of worship, some lower; 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


77 


their symbols arc appropriate. But they are all striving 
for the one and same thing — ^to render worship to the Di- 
vine Creator, to sit in the Light of Aton.” 

^^But the sun,” Margaret said — she pointed to the fiery 
ball on the horizon — “I thought your divine Akhnaton was 
a sun-worshipper.?” 

‘^He worshipped our God, the Creator of all things of 
heaven or earth, even of our precious human sympathy, 
Meg, for nothing that is could be without Him, and to 
Akhnaton His symbol was the sun. The earlier Egyptians 
worshipped Ra, the great sun-god; Akhnaton brought di- 
vinity into his worship. He worshipped Aton as the Lord 
and Giver of Life, the Bestower of Mercy, the Father of 
the Fatherless. All His attributes were symbolized in the 
sun. Its rising and setting signified Darkness and Light ; 
its power as the creative force in nature. Resurrection. 
It evolved mankind from the lower life and implanted the 
spirit of divinity in him through the Creator of all things 
created. The sun was God created. His symbol. His mani- 
festation.” 

‘Eook,” Margaret said, ‘‘look at it now — it is God, walk- 
ing in the desert.” 

For a little time tliey stood together, their material forms 
side by side. 

Michael’s house-boy, with a deferential salaam, suddenly 
informed him that his bath had been waiting for him and 
was now cold. 

Before Michael hurried off Margaret said, “Thank you 
for my first lesson in Akhnaton’s worship.” She held out 
her hands. 

“We all worship as he did, all day long,” he said, “when 
we admire the sun and the stars and the flowers, when we 
admire all that is beautiful, we are seeing God.” 

“I adore beauty,” Margaret said, “but I forget that 


78 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


beauty is God. You, like Akhnaton, are conscious of God 
first, the beauty He has made afterwards. If there had 
been the text ‘God is Beauty’ as there is ‘God is Love,’ it 
might have helped us to understand.” 

“I forget him,” Michael said, “you know how easily.” 

“It is far better to know and love, even if you are human 
and forget . . .” she paused “ . . . than always to sit in 
darkness, to sit outside the door.” 

“I don’t see how any one can,” Michael said. “It is all 
so exquisitely evident. The desolation must be so terrify- 
ing, like living in this lonely spot with no watch-dogs to 
keep off evil-doers. It takes great courage to live on one’s 
own strength, one’s own material self.” 

They had parted, Margaret going to her room, Michael 
to his tent. Freddy, who was almost dressed, saw two fig- 
ures approaching, wrapped up in big coats. 

“That’s a good job!” he said. “The sunrise has made 
them friends again.” He was out in the desert the next 
moment, hearing the roll-call of the workmen, who had all 
ranged themselves up in a line near the hut. 


CHAPTER IX 

One evening, some weeks later, when the trio, Margaret, 
Freddy and Michael, were busily engaged in sorting and 
cleaning the day’s finds, which had been more than usually 
interesting, Margaret held up for inspection a tiny ala- 
baster kohl-pot, which she had freed from the incrustations 
of thousands of years. It was exactly similar to a little 
green glass bottle which she had bought in the bazaar at 
Assuan, in which the modern Egyptian, but more especially 
the Coptic, women carry the kohl which they use for black- 
ing their eyes and eyebrows. Margaret showed Freddy 
the bottle, which led to a discussion about the similarity of 
the customs of the modern Egyptians and those in the pic- 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


79 


tures in the tombs, whose decorations always reveal the more 
human and intimate side of the life of ancient Egypt than 
the decoration of the temples. 

“They were as vain and fond of making up as any woman 
of to-day,^’ Freddy said. “We find no end of recipes for 
cosmetics and hair-dyes and restorers. One popular pomade 
was made of the hoofs of a donkey, a dog’s pad and some 
date-kernels, all boiled together in oil. It was supposed to 
stop the hair from falling out and restore its brilliancy. 
There is another, even more savoury, for hair-dyeing.” 

“Do you suppose they still use that recipe.?” Michael 
said. 

“I shouldn’t wonder. Customs never die in Egypt — ^they 
have had the same superstitions and the same customs for 
thousands of years. The Copts have clung more jealously 
to them, of course. The Moslem invasion did a little to 
change some of them, but not many.” 

Margaret listened while Freddy explained how the Mos- 
lems, after the Arab invasion, behaved with regard to the 
festivals and superstitions of the pagans very much in the 
same way as the Early Christian church in Rome behaved 
with regard to the pagan festivities and superstitions — 
adapting them, as far as was possible, to the new religion, 
grafting on such things as the people would not or could 
not renounce. The wisdom of the custom was obvious. 
The new converts, who believed in one God Whose Prophet 
had come to knock down all graven images in the temples, 
were still allowed the protection and comfort of their per- 
sonal amulets, which were powerful enough to protect them 
from every evil imaginable, or to bring them all the bless- 
ings their simple souls desired. Arab workmen, who be- 
lieve that Allah wills all things, that whatsoever happens, 
it is his purpose, will flock round any soothsayer who pro- 
fesses to see into the future and do the most absurd things 
conceivable to keep oflF the evil eye. The eye of Homs is 
still their favorite amulet. 

“Abdul professes to tell fortunes and see into the future. 


80 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


They do sometimes manage to hit off some wonderfully 
clever guesses,” Freddy said. “Abdul has been curiously 
correct in a number of things he has foretold relating to 
this bit of work.” 

“What did he tell you about this excavation.?” 

“He didn’t tell me — I overheard the workmen’s chatter. 
He has 4^orked them up to a pitch of absurd excitement.” 

“What sort of things has he foretold.? Good or bad.? 
What things have come true.?” 

“I forget the small points now. I really can’t tell you. 
He predicts all sorts of extravagant things about the inside 
of the tomb, says he has seen visions of a wonderful figure 
of a queen, dressed as if for her bridal, and the place all 
glittering with gold and precious stones — the most superb 
tomb that has ever been opened.” 

“Oh!” Meg said excitedly. “I wonder if it will be? — if 
there will be any truth in it?” 

“Tommy-rot !” Freddy said. “But the excitement’s 
spread — ^the men are working like mad — ^never did so much 
good work before.” 

“May I talk to Abdul? I’d love to have my future 
told!” 

“I’d rather you didn’t — at least, I would rather the other 
workmen didn’t know he had spoken to you. I don’t like 
them to imagine that we believe in such things.” 

“Very well,” Meg said. “I see what you mean.” 

“You are never wise to let the natives lose their respect 
for your disdain of spooks and superstitions. I never scoff 
at their fears and beliefs in every sort of imaginable super- 
natural power, but I like them to think that my religion 
places me above such terrors. We pray to our Christian 
God to protect us according to His will ; they say five pray- 
ers to Allah daily, the one and only God, and at the same 
time at every hour of the day they perform countless acts 
and ceremonies to propitiate malign spirits and powers. 
They are a curious people — the best of them are very de- 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 81 

vout, but some of the most devout are not the best by any 
means/^ 

‘^Do you mind if Michael sees the fortune-teller? It 
would be so interesting.” 

“He knows Abdul.” Freddy looked at Mike. “It’s dif- 
ferent to letting one of our womenkind meddle in such 
things.” 

“Did the ancients believe in dreams?” Margaret said. 
Michael’s eyes had spoken; he had seen the man. 

“Don’t you remember Joseph’s dream 

“Oh, of course!” Margaret said. “But Joseph seems a 
modern in this valley.” 

“The ancients looked upon dreams as Revelations’ from 
a world quite as real as that which we see about us when 
we are awake. They were sent by the gods and, according 
to the texts in the tombs, much desired.” 

Margaret’s and Michael’s eyes met. Her dream which 
had brought them together again had undoubtedly been 
sent by God. 

There was an Industrious silence for a little time, then 
Margaret asked, “Have j^ou ever come across any traces of 
Akhnaton’s religion in the tombs in this valley?” 

An amused smile hovered round Freddy’s mouth. It was 
obvious that Margaret had caught something of Mike’s 
enthusiasm for the heretic Pharaoh. 

“No, nothing of his religion,” he said. “It is too far 
from his scene of action ; his influence was almost local — it 
was a personal influence and died at his death. He was a 
man born before his time ; the world was not ready for his 
doctrines — they were far above the people’s heads.” 

“How do we know.?” Mike said eagerly. “Surely God 
knows best when to send His messengers, when to reveal 
Himself?” 

“Anyhow,” Freddy said, “you know that when he died 
his teachings died too. The people who had professed his 
beliefs returned to their old gods. The one and only trace 
of Akhnaton’s influence here is in his mother’s tomb, where 

6 


82 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


every sign of Aton worship has been chopped off the wall, 
every trace of his symbols obliterated. Akhnaton had no 
doubt introduced them into his mother’s tomb; she had 
shared his beliefs, which had not, of course, become extreme: 
at the time of her death.” 

‘‘Truth never dies,” Mike said. “His beautiful city wab 
abandoned, his temples neglected and overthrown, his peo- 
ple a^ain became the victims of the money-making, politi- 
cal priesthood of Amon-Ra. But who can say that the 
spirit of Akhnaton is dead to-day Who can tell that the 
seed of his mission bore no fruit? Thought never dies.” 

“As you like. Anyhow, even before he was buried — 
embalming was a lengthy process — ^liis religion as a state 
religion, as anything at all of any influence, or as a power 
in the land, was doomed.” 

“You don’t admire him as Mike does,” Margaret said. 
“He seems to have been almost as perfect as a human being 
could be — the first living being to realize the divinity of 
God.” 

“As a religious devoue, he was, as you say, almost a saint. 
He spent his life throwing pearls before swine — you might 
as well try to make a charity-school class see the beauty of 
Virgil in the original — and letting his kingdom go to rack 
and ruin.” 

“Oh,” Margaret said, “you didn’t tell me that.” Her 
eyes searched Mike’s. “Did he let Egypt go to pieces?” 

“He was anti-w^ar, as I am,” Mike said, “as all lovers of 
God and of mankind ought to be. He was perhaps foolish 
in his belief that if the world could be converted to the 
great religion of Aton, which meant perfect love for every- 
thing that God had created and absolute reverence for 
everything because he created it, then there would be no 
wars. If God is love and we believe in God, how can we kill 
each other? Akhnaton’s idea of the duty of a king was the 
improvement of mankind. He tried to give men a new un- 
derstanding of life and of God. The moral welfare of 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 83 

the human race was more to him than the aggrandizement 
of its emperors.” 

‘‘Vwe no patience with all that,” Freddy said/ ^^He in- 
herited a magnificent kingdom; he let it dwindle almost tc 
ruin. If you could read some of the letters of Horemheb, 
the commander-in-chief of his army, begging him to send 
reinforcements to Syria, imploring him to realize the dan- 
ger that menaced Asia, you \vould feel as impatient as I 
do with his mission work at Tel-el-Amarna, his cult of 
flowers and his new-fangled art.” 

‘^A man can’t go against his own conscience. He didn’t 
approve of war. It’s an interesting fact that the only one 
of the old gods he recognized was Mait — he built a flne new 
temple to the goddess of truth at Tel-el-Amarna. He car- 
ried his enthusiasm too far,” Mike said, grant that, 
but from his point of view these things were of little ac 
count. If he could have turned the heart of Egypt from 
the worship of false gods, if he could have imparted unto 
the minds of men the wonder and the love of God, all else, 
he thought, would follow after.” 

^^A fanatic !” Freddy said. 

^‘So were all saints.” 

Tor what shall it profit a man,’ ” Meg said, 4f he 
gain the whole world, and lose his own soul ” Her voice 
was significant. ‘Tn his day, Christ was as great a fanatic.^ 
if you like to look at things from that point of view. Fancy 
fasting forty days and forty nights in the wilderness, call- 
ing upon men to leave their work and follow him, preaching 
against the rich! How you would have scoffed at him!” 

^Tf Akhnaton hadn’t been a king, if he had merely been 
a prophet and a teacher, he’d have been all right. But 
just you listen, Meg,” Freddy said, ^Vhile I read you what 
a modern writer says about him, and he is an intense ad- 
mirer of the character of Akhnaton. This is how he de- 
scribes what the messengers must have felt when they hur- 
ried back to Egypt to the new capital of the fanatical king 
at Tel-el-Amarna, bearing entreaties from the commander- 


84 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


in-chief of the army in Syria to send reinforcements to 
help to deliver his distant kingdom from the oppression of 
her enemies.” Freddy found the book and opened it. 
‘‘Here it is — ^listen to this: ‘The messengers have arrived 
at the City of the Horizon,’ as Akhnaton called his new 
capital, ‘their hearts are full of the agony of Syria. 
From the beleaguered cities which they had so lately left, 
there came to them the bitter cry for succour, and it was not 
possible to drown that cry in words of peace, nor in the 
jangle of the septrum or the warbling of pipes. Who, 
thought the waiting messengers, could resist that piteous 
call? The city weeps and her tears are flowing. Who 
could sit idle in the City of the Horizon, when the proud 
empire, won with the blood of the noblest soldiers of the 
great Thothmes, was breaking up before their eyes? What 
mattered all the philosophers in the world, and all the gods 
in heaven, when Egypt’s great dominions were being 
wrested from her? The splendid Lebanon, the white king- 
doms of the sea, Askalon and Ashdod, Tyre and Sidon, 
Simgra and Byblos, the hills of Jerusalem, Kadesh and the 
great Orontes, the fair Jordan, Turip, Aleppo and distant 
Euphrates . . . what counted a creed against these ? God, 
the Truth? The only god was He of the Battles, who had 
led Egypt into Syria; the only truth the doctrine of the 
sword, which had held her there for so many years.’ ” 

' Freddy turned over the leaves of the book which he had 
been reading from, and began again quoting from Wei- 
gall’s Life of Akhnaton. 

“ ‘Love ! One stands amazed at the reckless idealism, the 
beautiful folly of this Pharaoh who, in an age of turbu- 
lence, preached a religion of peace to seething Syria. 
Three thousand years later mankind is still blindly striving 
after these same ideals in vain.’ ” 

“How pathetic!” Margaret said. “And yet . . she 
hesitated, “. . . . the God of Bfattles . . . Akhnaton’s 
was the God of Love, the God of everlasting Mercy.” 

“What right had Egypt ever to go into Syria?” Mike 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


85 


said. sounds fine and one can grow enthusiastic over 

these beautiful old names and visualize a million great- 
nesses that Akhnaton was resigning, but what right had 
Egypt in Syria The right of might, the right of the 
stronger against the weaker — Prussia’s might against Po- 
land, Spain’s might against Flanders, any large country’s 
might against a weaker, the right of annies, the right of 
the greed of monarchs ! Akhnaton believed in God, and to 
his thinking war could not go hand-in-hand with a love for 
all that God had created.” 

‘‘Get out, Mike!” Freddy said. “You’ll get on to Ire- 
land next — I know him, Meg 1” 

“I agree with him in a way,” Meg said. “To give peo- 
ple the love of God and the proper sense of beauty, the en- 
joyment of all that God has made for their good, in the 
best way, which was surely the way of Akhnaton, seems bet- 
ter than spending the kingdom’s wealth and brains in main- 
taining armies to kill human beings and invade new terri- 
tories.” 

“The great question,” Freddy said, “is nationality. If 
you don’t care who wipes you out, or to what country or 
king you belong, well and good, live the idealized life. 
Someone will think quite differently and gobble you up. If 
Akhnaton hadn’t died, there would soon have been no 
Egypt, no Egyptian peoples.” 

“They’d have been quite as happy,” Mike said, “for in 
those days the kings actually owned their empires, they 
were their own property to do what they liked with. The 
people fought for their King, not for their country. An 
absolute monarch was anr absolute monarch, the kingdom 
was his to do as he liked with.” 

“How was it saved Was it ever as great again.?” Meg 
asked. 

“It w^as saved by his son d3dng almost directly after he 
did and Horemheb, the great commander-in-chief, at last 
got his way. He persuaded the reigning Pharaoh, who 
had married Akhnaton’s daughter, himself lead an ex- 


86 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


pedition and go into Asia. After that Pharaoh’s death, 
and the death of the next one. Ay, Akhnaton’s father-in- 
law, who reigned for a short time — and who, to do him jus- 
tice, tried to remain faithful to Akhnaton’s ideal Aton 
worship — the great warrior and commander-in-chief, Hor- 
emheb, was raised to the throne. He brought Egypt back 
to its old conditions. Do you care to hear what Weigall 
says about him? — how completely he wiped out the ideal- 
ism of the dreamer’?” Freddy found the passage he 
wanted. ^The neglected shrines of the old gods once 
more echoed with the charfts of the priests through the 
whole land of Egypt ... he fashioned a hundred images. 
. . . He established for them daily offerings every day. 
All the vessels of their temples were wrought of silver and 
gold. He equipped them with priests and with ritual 
priests, and with the choicest of the army. He transferred 
to them lands and cattle, supplied with all necessary equip- 
ment. By these gifts to the neglected gods, Horemheb 
was striving to bring Egypt back to its natural condition 
and with a strong hand he was guiding the country from 
chaos to order, from fantastic Utopia to the solid Egypt 
of the past. He was, in fact, the preacher of sanity, the 
chief apostle of the Normal.’ ” 

“It was in his reign,” Michael said, “that Akhnaton’s 
fair city of Tel-el-Amarna was utterly abandoned; his 
beautiful decorations, which were intended to illustrate to 
the people the beauty of God in Nature, were ruthlessly 
destroyed. His body, which had been laid in the far-away 
cliffs behind his city, was removed and placed in his mother 
Queen Thi’s tomb in this valley.” 

“What a tragic life !” Margaret said. She was thinking 
of the sad face as she had seen it in her vision. Did any 
one understand him? Freddy evidently understood Hor- 
emheb, the apostle of the Normal, who scorned the fan- 
tastic Utopia of Akhnaton, much better, 
i “He was very much beloved and probably as much un- 
derstood by a few as most pioneers have been. It was in 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


87 


his father-in-law’s tomb that his beautiful hymn was dis- 
covered, for he was one of his devoted followers in Akhna- 
ton’s lifetime.” 

Margaret smiled. ^^The beautiful hymn you said to me 
that morning at dawn, Mike?” 

‘^The same,” Michael said. have often thought of it 
in connection with St. Francis’ Canticle to the Sun.” 

^Tt is difficult,” Margaret said, ^Ho know how far wars 
and empire-building, and everything that makes for world- 
ly-ambition and encourages the vanity of monarchs, are 
compatible with the true meaning of the words ^God is 
Love,’ with the true conception of Christ’s doctrines.” 

‘Which were Akhnaton’s,” Michael said. “He did all in 
his power to raise the morals of his people. He was the 
first king to recognize the higher rights of women, to insist 
on the reverence of womanhood. He brought his queen for- 
ward on every public occasion, and that had never been 
heard of before. He tried to introduce a new ideal of 
home-life. He was a model father and husband. He 
thought of nothing but the moral welfare of his people and 
of their happiness. He was willing to lose his kingdom for 
the saving of their souls.” 

“And yet he was a bad king.?” Margaret said. 

“He had none of the qualities of a ruler or an empire- 
builder,” Freddy said. 

“Damn empire-building!” Mike said. “If people would 
only stick to their own natural territory and not go stray- 
ing into other people’s!” 

. “I wonder what you’d do if Germany strayed into ours? 
Sit down and let them walk over you.?” 

“I’d do what you’d do,” Mike said, with a flash of Irish 
anger in his eyes — “kill every damned one of them !” 

“There you are!” Freddy said hotly. 

“No, I am not,” Michael said, “for, as I said, what we’ve 
got, let us keep — England’s possessions no more belong to 
Germany than my soul does. But some of our wars — ^well !” 
he laughed. “Empires are built up in rum ways, ways I 


88 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


don’t agree with, but we won’t do any good by handing 
them over now to feed the vanity of the Kaiser. But the 
Egyptians had enough land in Africa to expand in, there 
was no need for their warrioring in strange lands.” 

‘Tet’s chuck the subject,” Freddy said good-naturedly, 
‘^and stick to work. I want to get these boxes cleared out 
to-night and we never do good work while we argue.” 

‘T can’t help smiling,” Margaret said. ‘Tt’s really too 
funny to think that we’ve got quite cross and snappy over 
the character of a man who lived more than three thousand 
years ago.” 

“Oh, we often do that,” Michael said. “You should 
have heard about a dozen of us quarreling some time ago 
over hair-splitting theories on a much less human subject, 
one belonging to pre-dynastic times !” 

“I wish Aunt Anna could see us, Freddy, sitting in this 
funny hut in this lonely desert valley, cleaning little objects 
and broken fragments of things that were buried three 
thousand years ago and fighting over a mummy, as she 
would say!” 

Margaret had been working busily, so her tin cigarette- 
box, which had been quite full early in the evening with 
all sorts of small blue beads and tiny bits of pottery, was 
almost empty. She had been able to enjoy and follow all 
her brother’s remarks about Akhnaton, as Michael had told 
her a great deal about him. In the three weeks which had 
passed since their visit to Assuan there had been no return 
of the vision, so she had insisted upon Michael telling her 
all that he could about Akhnaton. She felt anxious to 
understand something about the king whose personality in- 
terested and infiuenced him so greatly. 

Michael had by no means banished the vision from his 
thoughts. He was convinced that Margaret had been privi- 
leged to see a vision of Akhnaton — indeed, the more he 
dwelt on his message, the more he felt sure that it was the 
beginning of a new phase in his life. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 89 

Over and over again he had repeated to himself the mes- 
sage: ‘‘Tell him to carry on my work.’^ 

Was he doing any work at the present time to help for- 
ward mankind? He was enjoying himself in a delightful 
way and to a certain extent he was assisting Freddy; but 
such assistance as he gave could easily 'be given by another ; 
he was not essential. 

There was only one man whom he had a longing to con- 
sult and that was Michael Ireton. Since his marriage with 
Hadassah Lekejian, a Syrian girl of great beauty and 
strength of character, Michael Ireton had given his time 
and brains and money to the founding of settlements in 
various parts of Egypt for the raising of the moral status 
of women in Egypt. He was a practical man of the world, 
with a charming personality. His wife was one of the most 
cultivated and fascinating women Michael had ever met. 

If he confided to Freddy his growing desire to do the 
work which he felt was the work he was called upon to do, 
Freddy would look upon it as a fresh example of his drift- 
ing character. 

The subject of Akhnaton had been dropped and perfect 
good humour was restored again. Michael’s thoughts had 
soared into what Freddy called his “Kingdom of Idle 
Dreams.” Freddy’s thoughts were very practical, although 
they related to the history of a lost civilization and to the 
unearthing of objects which the sands of the desert had 
concealed for thousands of years. He and the workers 
knew that the next few days would be days of intense ex- 
citement. 

So far Freddy’s surmises had been correct. The chaff 
and scoffing which he had so good-naturedly put up with 
from the fellow-excavators who had been to visit the camp 
were likely to be turned the other way. He had little or no 
doubt left that he had struck an important tomb, probably 
the tomb of the Pharaoh for whom he was looking. 

In a few days the big shaft which led to the mouth of 
the tomb would be cleared. Tons upon tons of debris had 


90 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


been thrown out of it ; the work had been stupendous. The 
two hundred native workers and the other more experienced 
diggers had worked unremittingly. Freddy was living in 
a high state of nervous tension. The news had spread far 
and wide that ‘‘Mistrr Lampton” had discovered a new 
tomb and one which presumably had never been entered. 
Freddy knew that this news would spread, would be carried 
on the wings of the morning in a manner which no Euro- 
pean can ever discover. Means of transmitting news is one 
of the secrets which no native in Africa, North or South, 
has ever divulged to an European. There are hundreds 
of theories on the subject. Do pigeons act as carriers.^ 
Some people suggest this theory. Or is it by some wireless 
method which has been known to all primitive races and 
only lately discovered by scientific scholars of the West.? 

So far no one has fathomed the mystery. But Freddy 
knew that the news would be sent far and wide, and that 
every seeker after ^^antikas” would be prowling round the 
opened site. Directly the tomb was opened, it would be the 
Mecca of every tomb-plunderer. He had sent word for a 
guard of police to be ready to come when he summoned 
them. 

When the tomb was opened he would have to prevent 
anyone from going into it until a photographer had ar- 
rived from Cairo to photograph it and until after the 
Supervisor-General of the Monuments of Upper Egypt had 
arrived on the spot and inspected it. 

He could feel the excitement of the natives, who have 
absolutely no sense of honour where ^‘antikas” are con- 
cerned. It has proved almost an impossible work to con- 
vince them that the excavators and the scholars who are 
engaged in the work of archaeology in Egypt, or the 
wealthy man who has paid for the expenses of a camp, are 
not one and all “out on the make.” They are convinced 
that these eager, enthusiastic scholars are just the same as 
they are, interested in it from a pecuniary point of view. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 91 

The curios and wonders which they dig out of the bowels 
of the earth put gold into their pockets. 

Freddy’s Ras, or native overseer, was a highly intelli- 
gent mau, who had a genuine appreciation for antiques — 
he was a clever hand at faking them and did a good busi- 
ness with tourists — but at heart even he doubted the sincer- 
ity and singleminded purpose of the British School of 
Archaeology in Egypt, and ^‘Mistrr Lampton’s” absolute 
clean-handedness in the business. 

Freddy had never left the camp for more than half an 
hour since the excavation had become ‘^hot.” It was a 
strenuous time. 

Naturally Margaret’s thoughts were centered and en- 
grossed in her brother’s work. She could scarcely hold her 
soul in patience while the deep shaft was being cleared, a 
long and tiresome job. But at last they could count the 
time by days before the entrance to the tomb would be 
reached. 

The little store-room in the hut was packed full of boxes 
which held the small finds. Margaret’s work for some days 
past had been to piece together (Freddy had taught her 
how) the tiny fragments of a smashed vase which her 
brother had found. The pieces were all there, for it had 
been discovered in a little hollow in the sand. The con- 
ventional decoration was of an unique type ; and on it was 
traced a branch of a plant which seemed to Freddy to re- 
semble with extraordinary exactness a branch of the Indian 
fig, the prickly pear, so familiar to all travelers in South- 
ern Italy. As the Indian fig was not introduced into 
Egypt until the Middle Ages, or so it had generally been 
supposed, for it was not indigenous, Freddy was anxious 
to find out if the decoration on the vase was going to prove 
that after all it was known to the Egyptians long before it 
was brought over from America. He also held that there 
was something in the theory which has of late become cur- 
rent that camels may have been known and used in Egypt 
from very early times, that their absence in all pictorial art 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


S2 

in temples and tombs may be owing to the fact that the 
Egyptians divided animals into two classes, the clean and 
the unclean ; that neither into temples nor into tombs could 
the unclean be introduced in any form of art whatsoever. 

These were the sort of discussions with which Margaret 
had already grown familiar. She felt that in piecing to- 
gether and sketching as accurately as possible the cactus- 
like branch of the little plant engraved on the broken vase, 
she was actually helping to forge a link in one of the 
minute chains of Egyptian archaeolog3^ 

Her brother’s memory amazed her and his intelligence 
stimulated her. He had been such a boy at home. Egypt 
had converted him into a strong serious scholar. His fair 
head, bent over his work, with the lamplight shining on it, 
was so dear to her that impulsively she put her long strong 
fingers on the glittering hair; she longed to kiss it. 

‘^Dear old boy!” she said. ‘Tsn’t it all just too excit- 
ing.^ Isn’t life thrilling.^ Isn’t it lovely to be alive 

Freddy did not look up. “Some girls,” he said, 
“mightn’t think this being very much alive — the sorting 
out of bits of broken rubbish, thrown out of a tomb which 
has been forgotten for two or three thousand 3^ears. Did 
you ever think you’d care to know whether a prickly pear 
was indigenous to Egypt or was not.?^ Or whether canopic 
jars had their origin in family grocers’ jars being lent by 
the head of the house to hold the intestines of some dear- 
departed.?” 

Meg laughed. “It is all too odd, but being in it, and 
actually knowing that we are going to see into that tomb in 
a few days and discover who the king was who was buried 
there, and all about his personal and family affairs, and 
be able to touch the jewels he was buried with, it’s too in- 
teresting for words, I think i” 

“I hope you w^on’t be disappointed. It may have been 
robbed.” 

“But you don’t think so?” 

“No, I don’t — not at present. There was a tomb opened 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


93 


at one of the camps not long ago, which told a tragic 
story of the end of robbery and plunder. The roof had 
fallen in while the burglar was busy unwrapping the cloths 
from the dead mummy. He was evidently trying to get 
at the heart-scarab, I suppose, and at the jewels which the 
windings held in their place. He had been smothered, 
taken in the act. Probably he had left his fellow-plunder- 
ers at the entrance ; the roof may have looked unsafe, but 
he had hoped to collect all the jewels and scarabs before it 
gave way. Fate played him a nasty trick. The roof caved 
in, and we have secured all the jewels he had collected to- 
gether and have learned a lesson of what must have often 
happened. The mummy’s body was, of course, still per- 
fect. Of the intruder only bones were visible and some 
fragments of his clothes. Things keep for ever in these 
hermetically-sealed Egyptian tombs, where neither rust 
nor moth ever entered in, but where thieves did break 
through and steal.” 

‘^How thrilling !” Margaret said. ^^How did you guess 
that the skeleton was the skeleton of a robber.^ I suppose 
as he never returned, his friends just went off and left 
him 

“By the scattered jewels and the way the mummy was 
lying. Why should a skeleton be inside a royal tomb.? 
Why should the mummy be out of its coffin and partly un- 
robed.? We have actually found before now plans which 
the sextons and the guardians of the tombs had made for 
themselves of all the tombs in the cemetery which was in 
their care. They knew how they could be entered one from 
another. Of course, this valley is different. The tombs 
are isolated and carefully hidden. It was never a public 
cemetery.” 

“Was Akhnaton’s tomb intact.? Had it been robbed.?” 

Freddy laughed. “Back again to the tabooed subject.?” 

jMeg laughed too. “We shan’t fight this time, I prom- 
ise.” 

“His city and palace and tomb were utterly desolated. 


94 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


but his mummy had been taken away from his own tomb, 
before it was desolated, and brought to his mother’s.” 

‘‘Oh, you told me — I forgot.” Into Meg’s mind came 
again the words spoken by the sad voice. “My earthly 
body was brought to my mother’s tomb in this valley.” 

When the night’s work was completed, Meg voted that 
they should sit for a few minutes in front of the hut and try 
to get the “mummy-shell” and the microbes of Pharaonic 
diseases out of their nostrils. Freddy had never allowed 
them to sleep right out in the open, much as they had 
wished it. It was not safe, even with the dogs and his trust- 
worthy house-boys. He would not hear of it; and he was 
wise. 

Gladly he agreed to refreshing their lungs with the 
beautiful night air. Indeed, they were all three so happy 
together and there was so much to talk about and discuss, 
that bed seemed a bore. Physically tired as they were, 
owing to the nervous excitement in the atmosphere of their 
day’s surroundings, sleep seemed very far off. 

“Just half an hour, Freddy,” Margaret said, as she 
threw herself down on a long lounge chair, and clasping 
her hands behind her head, gazed up to the heavens. “How 
glorious it is !” she said. “I’m so happy.” 

They all three lighted cigarettes and smoked in silence. 
Freddy was as happy as Meg; Mike was restless. 

At the end of the half-hour Meg got up and said, 
“Who’d exchange this for a city.?^ Freddy, you ought to 
get to bed — you’re dead tired, really.” 

He rose reluctantly. “I suppose I must.” His thoughts 
were on the morrow’s work. If the tomb was going to be a 
really big thing, it meant a lot more to him than Meg un- 
derstood. He was very young; he had not as yet struck 
any remarkable find; he had his reputation to make. His 
theories had caused much comment. 

“I could never live in a city again,” he said. “This life 
has made it impossible. And the odd thing is that it has 
made cities seem to me the loneliest, most desolate places in 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


95 


the world. I never feel in touch with anyone. Even the 
other night at the ball, jolly as it was, I never once talked 
fto anyone about anything that really interested me. I 
never felt that anyone would understand a single thing 
about all that is my real life. I suppose everyone feels the 
same — that their real selves are lost in crowds.” 

Michael and Margaret looked at each other. They had 
experienced the feeling; they had lost each other. In the 
valley they had come back to the things of Truth. 

^‘You know I always abhorred town-life,” Mike said, 
“and all its artificiality and rottenness and needless accum- 
ulation of unnecessary things.” 

“Brains congregate in cities, all the same,” Freddy said, 
“if you can only strike them. We’d get too one-sided here, 
too lost in the past. It’s never wise to let your hobbies 
and work exclude all other interests.” 

“I begin to think there is no past,” Meg said. “Time 
lost itself in Egypt. Three thousand years mean nothing. 
The people who lived and ruled before Moses was born are 
more alive and real to-day for us than the events of yes- 
terday’s evening paper. I think I have learned just a tiny 
bit of what infinity means.” 

“Or rather, you have learned that you haven’t,” Mike 
said. “By the time you have discovered that three thou- 
sand years are just yesterday, you have grasped the truth 
of the fact that no mortal mind can conceive the meaning 
of the word infinity.” 

“Have you ever seen a ghost in Egypt, Freddy?” Mar- 
garet said, irrelevantly. 

“No, never,” he said. 

“Did the ancients believe in them?” 

Freddy was locking up the hut. “We never come across 
any writing or pictures to show us that they did, so I don’t 
think it’s likely. They have told us most things about 
themselves and about what they saw and feared.” 

“I wonder?” Margaret said meditatively. “I wonder if 
they did or didn’t.?” 


96 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


course they believed,” Michael said, “that the soul 
of a man, the anima, at the death of the body, flew to the 
gods. It came back at intervals to comfort the mummy.” 

“That’s nothing to do with what we call ghosts,” Freddy 
said, “and no one but the mummy is supposed to have been 
visited by it. It took the form of a bird with human hands 
and head; it was called the 6a.” 

“Oh, my friendly 6a.^” Meg said. “I have just been 
reading all about it — in Maspero’s book you see pictures of 
it sitting on the chest of the mummy.” 

“That’s it,” Freddy said. “You’re getting on. But as 
for real ghosts, there’s no record of them — not that I know 
of. Good-night,” he said, “I’m off.” 

“Good-night,” Meg said, “and the best of luck to to- 
morrow’s dig.” 

For a moment Michael and Meg stood together. “I 
know what is in your heart,” she said. “I begin to think 
that Egypt is making practical me quite psychic.” 

“I feel I ought to be up and doing. I believe there is 
work I can do — I believe it is the work I can do best.” 

“You only can judge,” Meg said. 

“I have always maintained that a man should devote him- 
self to the work he can do best, no matter how unpractical 
or how unremunerative it may seem to others. He must 
be himself, he must work from the inside.” 

“You are doing good work here.” 

“Not my work — another’s.” 

“I can’t advise. I know you must judge.” 

“It means leaving this valley if I do it.” 

“Oh,” Meg said, “not yet.?^ Not until the tomb is opened, 
anyhow 

“No,” he said, “I’ll wait for that. I want to see Ireton — 
I’m going to see him to-morrow when I go to Luxor for 
Freddy.” 

“Are you going.?” she said. “I didn’t know.” 

“Yes,” he said. “He wants a lot done and he can’t leave 
the dig.” 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


97 


“No, he can’t.’’ Meg paused; in her heart a fear had 
suddenly leapt up. The soft, delicately-tinted woman on 
the balcony at Assuan stood out before her as plainly as 
the luminous figure of Akhnaton had done. She was at 
Luxor ! Two letters had arrived from Luxor for Mike in 
a woman’s handwriting. 

“I will see Michael Ireton,” he repeated. “His work is 
magnificent ; so is his wife’s. His work is amongst the men.” 

“In fheir settlements, you mean?” 

“Y(?s, amongsts the Copts, most particularly.” 

“It vdll be sad to break up our trio,” she said. “We are 
so happy.” She held out her hand. “Good-night. I was 
to help, not retard — I must remember my dream.” 

“Good-night.” Mike grasped her hand. “You are part 
of the light. Keep close to me when I am in Luxor to- 
morrow.” 


CHAPTER X 

Michael not only had to go to Luxor on business for 
Freddy, but to Cairo also. He had gone willingly, because 
he knew that someone had to go, and it gave him immense 
gratification to be able to help his friend in this time of in- 
tense anxiety. 

It was absolutely essential that as little time as possible 
should elapse between the opening of the tomb and the 
arrival of the photographer and the Chief Inspector. 
Things which have remained intact for thousands of years 
in the even, dry temperature of an Egyptian tomb, crumble 
and fade away like the fabric of our dreams when they are 
exposed to the open air. 

It might be that there would be nothing inside it worth 
all the trouble and the arrangements which had to be made ; 
on the other hand, the Arab seer’s vision might be verified. 
So far no trace of burglars, either ancient or modern, had 

7 


98 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


been discovered. Not infrequently the finding of an Arab 
copper coin, or some disk made of modern metal, an amulet 
similar to those worn by the ancients, but made of a compo- 
sition unknown to them, will indicate to an excavator that 
the tomb has been visited, and probably violated, by modern 
thieves. 

Everything when speaking of time in Egypt is compara- 
tive. These intruders may have dropped the metal talis- 
man or coin centuries and centuries ago, soon after the 
Arab invasion. 

Michael had done all his business and was well content to 
spend the remainder of his day in mediaeval Cairo. He 
shunned the European quarter, with its expensive hotels and 
hybrid Western civilization. He preferred the narrow dark 
streets of the poor natives. In the East poverty has at 
least its picturesque side ; in the East, as in Italy, Our Lady 
of Poverty has her shrines, not her hovels. In London, he 
asked himself, could Browning have sung ‘‘God’s in His 
heaven — ^All’s right with the world 

In London so much is wrong with the world that the true 
meaning of Christ’s words, “It is easier for a camel to go 
through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter 
into the Kingdom of Heaven,” seems obvious. To Michael 
Amory the world was beautiful; its systems of laws and 
customs were all wrong. The misunderstanding of count- 
less human beings, one with another, through their lack of 
Love, through their obliviousness of God, made a whirlpool 
of his reasoning powers. 

Mike had talked matters over with Michael Ireton, who 
had allowed him to unburden his full heart. His ideas and 
plans were quite unformed. All that he was now certain 
of was the fact that he would never settle down to any pro- 
fession or career which would mean only the furthering of 
his own worldy interests. 

“The clear voice prevents me,” he said. “And the fact 
is, I don’t care a rap about my future position — it can look 
after itself. I want to work as you are working, even if I 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


99 


prove a failure. I want to get something of this off my 
chest.” He laughed. ‘Tt’s all so difficult to express, and 
so easy to see, isn’t it? Of course, I know that one man 
can’t set the wrong in the world right, but each man can do 
what his right self advises. Our right self is never wrong.” 

^‘Hadassah helped me,” Michael Ireton said, “and life 
has been worth twice what it was before. I agree with you 
— we must lead our own lives according to our own ideals, 
not according to the world’s.” 

“Most people think me a fool,” Michael said, “simply a 
rotter and drifter, just because I can’t settle down to work 
at a career of my own, while the world’s burden is booming 
in my ear.” 

“Think things well over,” Hadassah said. “Don’t rush 
into plans which may prove a dissappointment. Let your 
ideas materialize. You are never really idle — you will be 
sending thought-waves out into the world; they will bear 
fruit. Thought never dies; for good or for evil, it is 
everlasting.” 

“But I have been thinking — or drifting, as Lampton 
says, just idly drifting, for what seems to me like ages.” 

“Drifting closer to the Light,” Hadassah said. ‘Tt has 
all been in order, it has all been a part of the Guiding 
Power.” 

“Do you think so ? I wish I knew. Lampton thinks I’ve 
no ambition. I have, of a sort, but it’s not of a money- 
making kind ; it’s not going to make my name or what you 
would call a career. I want to teach people how to live, 
and I don’t know how to do it myself.” 

“I understand,” Ireton said. “There’s something out 
here, in the simplicity of desert life and the East generally, 
that lessens our wants. The fruits of hard labour are not 
so necessary as in England ; the flesh-pots of Egypt are in 
the sunshine. If you have just enough to get along with, 
here in the East, and have cultivated tastes, life can be 
wonderfully beautiful. Poverty need never mean degrada- 
tion — in fact, it has its advantages.” 


100 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


^‘^ThaPs it !” Michael Amor j said. ‘T want to let people 
know how wonderfully beautiful life can be, even without 
wealth and worldy power, and why it is beautiful. I want 
them to realize the essence of things, to let those poor, 
crowded, degraded wretches in London know the sweetness 
of work in God’s open spaces. I feel that I must do m37^ 
little bit in helping things forward. I want to let in a few 
chinks of light. . . .” 

Hadassah, oddly enough, finished his quotation from 
‘‘Pippa Passes”: ^Wou want to give them eyes to see that 

“ ‘The year’s at the Spring, 

And day’s at the morn; 

Morning’s at seven; 

The hillside’s dew-pearled: 

The lark’s on the wing; 

The snail’s on the thorn; 

God’s in His heaven — 

All’s right with the world !’ ” 

Michael Ireton suggested that he should go off for a 
time into the desert and find himself. ‘^There’s nothing else 
so helpful,” he said. “I’ve tried it.” Hadassah’s eyes met 
her husband’s. She understood ; she remembered. 

And so Michael Amory left them strengthened and 
helped, not so much by their advice as by their under- 
standing. Hadassah had charmed him, as she charmed 
everyone who met her. Her happiness as the wife of the 
Englishman who had scorned the gossiping tongues of 
Cairo by marrying her, and her pride in the young Nicho- 
las, their son, who was just learning to walk, made Michael 
Amory a little envious. Michael Ireton’s home and life 
seemed almost too ideal. This wealthy, happy couple lived 
in the world and yet not for the world ; they had discovered 
the true meaning of life. 

Michael’s thoughts were brimful of Hadassah and her 
husband, her beauty and the romance of their marriage, 
the details of. which were familiar to him, as he pushed his 
way through the labyrinth of native streets in mediaeval 
Cairo. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


101 


After the silence of the desert, the noise was terrific — the 
shouts of the water-carriers, the jells of the native drivers 
of the swaying cabs, as they dashed at a reckless pace 
through the struggling and idling crowds. It was the most 
crowded hour of the day ; the native town was wide awake. 
Camels laden with immense burdens of sugar-canes brushed 
the foot passengers almost off the narrow sideway; small 
boys, with large black eyes and small white takiyehs, darted 
in and out with brass trays piled high with little enamelled 
glass bowls. 

Michael longed to close his ears with his fingers, but had 
he attempted to do so, a donkey, carrying terracotta water- 
jars of an ancient and unpractical shape, or a portly, high- 
stomached Turk would assuredly have robbed him of his 
balance. 

He drifted on in a semi-conscious state of all that was 
going on around him, hating the noise, but enjoying every 
now and then the feast of colour which some group of 
strangely-mixed races presented. More than once, in the 
midst of all this noise and clamour, he saw a devout Moslem 
alone with his God. Before all the world, he was praying 
in absolute solitude. His mind had created perfect silence. 

And so Michael drifted on. Only his subconscious self 
was leading him to his destination. He was going to a 
court of peace, to a strange friend who had taught him 
much simple philosophy and beauty, an African whose ac- 
quaintance he had made two years before, when he was in 
Gondokoro. Michael had saved the African’s life by giving 
him some pecuniary assistance and carrying him on his own 
icamel to the nearest village. He had come across him while 
he was on his journey — which he performed on foot — from 
the heart of Africa to the university of el-Azhar in Cairo. 

Since his youth, this old man had saved up money for 
the journey. It had been the ambition and the desire of 
his life to study in the great university of el-Azhar, the 
most Important Moslem university in the world. His money 
had all been stolen from him, when Michael’s servant found 


102 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


him. When he told his master of the condition the poor 
creature was in, a state of semi-starvation, Michael had 
taken him to the nearest village and there paid for a doctor 
to attend to him, and had supplied him with sufficient money 
to greatly mitigate the fatigue and suffering of his long 
pilgrimage to Cairo. 

The journey had, of course, not been of such a hopeless 
character as might be supposed, for in every Moslem village 
there is a rest-house with free food for poor travellers; but 
even so, Michael knew that the distances between the desert 
villages are often enormous, and that they only supplied 
the food for the period of rest which the pilgrim needed. 

Eight months later, when Michael was in England, he 
heard through the ^JJlama of the riwak in el-Azhar to which 
he belonged by nationality, that the old man had arrived 
and that he was now living the life of a mystic and a recluse. 
In a beautiful imagery of words, he had begged the ^Ulama 
to send his gratitude and thanks to the Englishman by 
whom, God, in His everlasting mercy, had sent him relief. 

On Michael’s return to Egypt the next year, almost the 
first thing which he had done on reaching Cairo was to go 
to el-Azhar and inquire at the ancient abode of peace if he 
could see his old friend. He had been admitted and ex- 
ceptional courtesy had been extended to him. He was an 
unbeliever and a despised Christian, yet it had been through 
his act of charity that one of Allah’s children had been 
nursed back to life and enabled to give his last years to the 
study of the Koran. He had been allowed to visit the old 
man from time to time. 

To-day, as he walked through the noisy streets and smelt 
the obnoxious smells coming from an infinite variety of 
Oriental foods and customs, he longed to be back in the 
quiet valley, to feel the golden sand once more under his 
feet, to see Margaret’s eyes smile their welcome. If he had 
caught the midday train, he would have been far away 
from Cairo by now. Yet something had led him to the 
heart of Islam, to that strange and unworldly seat of 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


lOS 


ancient learning. The very meaning of the word Islam 
suggests the atmosphere of the place — resignation, self- 
surrender. 

When at last he arrived at the gates and was admitted 
into the splendour of the spacious court, his heart was 
lifted up. Its ancient dignity, its divine sense of calm and, 
above all, the sonorous sounds of the Moslems chanting 
their sura^ of the Koran, intoxicated his senses. As St. 
Augustine was intoxicated with God, so Michael was intoxi- 
cated with the spirit of Islam. 

He knew that at certain times — during Moslem festivals, 
for instance — fanaticism often ran so high in this, the 
greatest of all Moslem centres, that it would be dangerous 
for a Christian to set foot inside the courtyard gate. It 
made him glow with pleasure that he, by his little act of 
love — or charity, as it is less pleasantly termed — was per- 
mitted to enter the courtyard at almost any time. This, of 
course, he would not do; the 'Ulama had given him permis- 
sion, but he would not take advantage of his gracious offer. 

To this richly-endowed university students come from all 
parts of the world, merely to study the interpretations of 
problematical passages in the Koran — poor students from 
India and China, wealthy citizens from Tunis, delicate- 
featured Malays from the . Straits Settlements and negroes 
from Central Africa. 

In the courts of el-Azhar these children of Allah become 
brothers; their united flag is the green banner of Islam; 
their nationality is Islam. This, Michael felt, was what 
religion ought to do for mankind. He tiptoed softly along, 
winding his way through the devout groups of students, 
until he reached a deep colonnade, supported by antique 
columns of great beauty, columns which had probably come 
from ancient Coptic churches, from Christian churches built 
in Old Cairo long before Islam was preached in Egypt. 
The colonnade was dark and almost cool after the open 
court, where the sun was blazing down upon the groups of 
picturesque worshippers and students, who seemed to be 


104 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


totally oblivious of its heat. Some elderly men were merely 
meditating. It was a wonderful sight, gracious and solemn 
and mysterious. The concentration of many worshippers 
on God was so strong that they seemed to see Him with 
their eyes; it was written on their faces; they looked as if 
they actually belonged to God. 

Filled with the religious spell of the place, Michael 
wound his way through the different class-rooms into which 
the colonnade w^as divided, class-rooms which so little re- 
sembled the class-rooms of his owm school or Oxford, that 
unless he had known what was going on, it would not have 
dawned on him that the various professors and teachers 
were delivering their lectures and instructing their scholars. 
The divisions of the class-rooms w^ere merely an unwritten 
law ; there was no boundary line. Here and there groups of 
students, seated on the floor of the immense colonnade, 
which was supported on the inner side by columns of 
superb proportions, w^ere waiting for their masters. Here 
and there a professor had already arrived ; he w^as standing 
close to a column with his pupils grouped round him, just 
as the village-children surrounded their native teacher in a 
desert school. 

Out of the eleven thousand pupils who attend the uni- 
versity every year not one of them would receive any 
instruction which would enable him to earn his living, or 
take his place in the struggle for wealth and power in the 
ordinary world of mankind. Devotion to Islam, and a 
desire to enter into a fuller understanding of God through 
the teachings of the Koran, alone brought them together 
from far and near. 

Michael knew his way and presently he found himself in 
the residential quarter of the university and outside a par- 
tition which divided the small bare room of the man he had 
come to see from that of his fellow-students. The room or 
cell was empty, except for one praying-mat and a shelf, 
which was close to the floor. On it was a copy of the Koran 
and some religious books bound in paper. In the wall of 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


105 


this narrow living-room there was an opening which led 
into another cell ; a tall man would have had to bend almost 
double to pass under it. The small recess served as a bed- 
room. 

Michael gently pulled a bell, whose chain hung against 
the iron grating which fronted the humble abode. As it 
sounded, an emaciated figure appeared under the arched 
aperture and a sonorous voice cried out in Arabic, “Peace 
be with you.” 

Michael, who knew that this Moslem greeting is reserved 
for all true believers, for members of the Islamic brother- 
hood, that it is rarely, if ever, offered to Christians, thought 
that the old man had not seen him, that his gracious salu- 
tation was for one of his own faith. He did not venture to 
return it in the prescribed Moslem fashion, “On you be 
peace and the mercy of God and His Blessing.” He merelj 
waited for a few moments, until the bent figure stood up- 
right, and the dark eyes in the thin face met his own. 

“It is you, O my son. I have long looked for you.” 

Michael’s heart warmed with happiness. Then the Mos- 
lem greeting had been for him. He felt that peace was 
wuth him. 

“I seek your counsel, O my father.” 

“May Allah counsel me and bring you prosperity.” A 
lean arm, a mere bone covered with a sun-tanned skin, 
reached for a key which was hanging from a nail in the 
wall. Without speaking, he unlocked the gate. Michael 
noticed the fieshlessness of the fingers and WTist. 

“Enter, my son, if it so please you to honour my humble 
abode.” 

Michael entered and waited in silence, until the old 
African had slowly and carefully locked the door again. 

“To you, O my son, my dwelling-place seems empty and 
bare; to me it is filled with the treasures of paradise, the 
sweet fragrance of white jasmine.” 

“I understand,” Michael said. 

“My son,” the old man said, “it is because you under- 


106 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


stand that I am here, in this little room, glorified by the 
presence of Allah, made beautiful by His exceeding great 
beauty. I see many flowers; I can hear the singing of 
birds and the running of cool waters.” 

‘‘Your home is an abode of peace. Its beauty is the per- 
fection of understanding. Your jasmine is the fragrance 
of love.” 

“Our thoughts, my son, are our real riches. In no place 
are we far from Allah. What of your work— has it pros- 
pered.^” This was, Michael knew, the usual Moslem greet- 
ing to a friend; it did not refer to any particular form of 
work or to his worldy affairs. 

“All is well, O my father.” 

“I have no bodily refreshment to offer you, my son.” 
He smiled a queer, grim smile; it stretched the hard skin 
of his face, which mid- African suns had tanned. 

“I need no material food, O my father,” Michael said, “I 
have eaten well and I know your frugal life. I seek better 
food.” 

“That is well, my son. Prayer is better than food. I 
have prayed for you.” 

Michael knew that at el-Azhar all studies are absolutely 
free ; the teaching is entirely gratuitious. The poor 
students even receive their food from the rich endowments 
of the various riwaks to which they belong. This Michael 
had learned when he saved the old man’s life at Gondokoro. 
He had discovered the fact that when once he was inside the 
gate of this gracious institution, he would be sheltered and 
fed and taught by the love of Islam. Wealthy students 
pay for privileges and more luxurious quarters. This 
visionary and pilgrim asked for nothing more than food 
enough to keep him alive. What he desired of life was the 
time and means for studying the teachings of the Koran 
and the receiving of instruction from learned professors in 
the refinements of theology and in the sacred traditions. 
His life had been spent in a treadmill of hard labour. In 
mid- Africa his duty had been, for as long as he could 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


107 


remember, the guiding of a camel in its unceasing roimd 
of a primitive native weU, the drawing up and emptying of 
buckets. 

His smile was so mystical and ecstatic while he offered his 
apologies to Michael for the lack of hospitality, that 
Michael knew that he was visualizing and enjoying far 
greater luxury and affluence than had ever been the lot of 
the richest Mameluke of old days. 

They were seated on the floor of the outer cell. 

‘‘You have been much in my thoughts, O my son. Allah 
has desired it. I have seen strange happenings for you. I 
know that the Light has come nearer.” 

Michael bowed his head and murmured a few words in- 
audibly. 

“The Lord of the Worlds has revealed himself to you, O 
my son. My unworthy prayer has been answered.” He 
paused. “\^y have you not come.?^ Since the Great 
Weeping (the inundation of the Nile) you have not left the 
valley — you have not come.^” 

“Y^,” Michael said. “I have left the valley. But only 
work could bring me to Cairo. I was busy.” 

“I have much to tell you, my son, much that Allah has 
shown me.” 

“Please instruct me, O father. I came to you for coun- 
sel, in my heart there is unrest.” 

“I have seen you,” he went on, regardless of Michael’s 
almost inaudible remarks, “I have seen you travelling on a 
long journey. I have seen many trials and many tempta- 
tions for you. I have also seen you in the great Light. For 
you there is a treasure laid up, not only in heaven, but on 
earth, which will help you in the work which the clear voice 
counsels.” 

“This is strange,” Michael said. “O my father, I am 
already greatly disturbed; I come to you for help.* 

“Do not fear, my son. God responds to and supplies the 
demands of human nature. He has willed that you should 
devote your life to his teachings.” 


108 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


‘Wou forget, my father. I am not of your faith. I 
have not embraced Islam.” 

‘T have my message to deliver. I have seen what I have 
seen. Every religion which gives a true knowledge of God 
and directs in the most excellent way of His worship, is 
Islam.” 

^‘You have seen me giving my life to all that I feel to be 
most urgent in the life of all who know the truth.?” 

‘‘I have seen you, by Allah’s aid and by His bountiful 
mercy, accomplishing work which will bestow great blessing 
and peace upon your soul.” 

“I have thought much of all this,” Michael said, ‘^since 
we last met. The idea has never left me, yet I am puzzled. 
Why should I feel like this, when better men do not.?” 

‘‘God, in His almighty word, has declared a higher aim 
of man’s existence, O my son.” 

“Then why do I not better understand.? I feel nothing 
but dissatisfaction, unfruitfulness.” 

“A man may not always understand. A hundred differ- 
ent motives may hold him back. But the truth remains, 
my son, that the grand aim of man’s life consists in know- 
ing and worshipping God and living for His sake.” 

“I wish I could decide! Some people see the road so 
plainly before them. Mine is broken, and often it is totally 
lost in the desert sands.” 

“A man has no choice, my son, in fixing the aim of his 
life.” 

“That is your faith, my father.” 

“Man does not enter the world or leave it as he desires. 
He is a creature, and the Creator Who has brought him 
into existence has assigned an object for his existence.” 

There was silence for a little time, while the old man 
meditated and recited a sura from the Koran. 

“Already, my son, even though you do not know it, you 
are in the faith. You have seen the perfect Light. Remem- 
ber that no one can fight with God, or frustrate His de- 
signs. Not once, but many times, I have seen you, my son. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


109 


travelling on this journey. God has sent many prophets to 
lead mankind into the knowledge of truth. Moses and 
Christ, they had their divine tasks, but the last and the best 
of the messengers of God was Mohammed, praised be His 
holy name. Some day, O my son. He will perfect your 
religion, and complete His favours by making Islam your 
faith. Before these messengers there were others, for God 
has never left the world in desolation. I have seen you 
surrounded by Light, a light which comes from one of God’s 
messengers, who is never far from you. As i see him, 
always in the midst of a great light, like the light of the 
sun, he resembles no mortal I have ever seen on this earth, 
or any king I have been shown in my dreams. He has 
greatly suffered for mankind, a man of sorrows and ac- 
quainted with grief, as was the Prophet Christ.” 

Michael was greatly disturbed. The old man’s eyes were 
far from him. His words had their meaning for Michael 
more than for himself. The great sunlight was the rays 
of Aton. The treasure of which he had spoken — ^was it the 
treasure of which the vision in the valley had spoken to 
Margaret ? 

‘‘Some day I may have more counsel to offer you, my 
son. To-day I have but strange visions, strange messages. 
This treasure you are to seek lies in the desert; it is a 
treasure of great value. I see much gold, but also, my son, 
much tribulation. This gold ... it has been lost to the 
world . . . for many centuries. . . .” 

“It is all very strange, my father. Your words are full 
of meaning. In Egypt there was a King, before the days 
of Moses, who sacrificed his kingdom to give his people 
God. His was the religion of the true God and His ever- 
lasting mercy.” 

The old man recited another sura from the Koran. “Go 
and pray, my son, open your heart to prayer, for prayer is 
better than strife; prayer is greater than miracles. Per- 
severance in prayer is Islam.” 

“Can you tell me nothing more?” Michael said. “Is it 


110 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


not folly to start out on a journey which has no definite 
ending, no practical purpose?’’ 

‘‘1 cannot tell you more, my son, nor can I tell you why 
these visions have been revealed to me. All I know is that 
I cannot doubt their source.” 

‘‘Do you, my father, then absolutely believe in visions ?” 
Michael said. “I am only a seeker after truth. I am con- 
vinced of so little.” 

“My son, believe in visions. Is their meaning not written 
on the leaf of a water-melon?” (A thing well-known.) 

“We read of them in the Bible.” 

“Did I not tell you that I knew of your coming? It was 
revealed to me in a vision. I saw you groping and losing 
your way. I saw you in thick darkness. I saw you strug- 
gling for the Light. Is all that not true? Have you never 
lost the Light? Has your path been straight and easy? 
Has the flesh not tempted you.^” 

Michael bent his head 

“For many weeks a friend has been very close to you. 
She is in the way of truth. Hold fast to her. There are 
others who I see in darkness.” 

“Yes,” Michael said. “That is all true. You have seen 
clearly.” 

“You will leave those you care for most, my son, and go 
on a journey into a new country across the river. It is all 
His purpose; it is all a part of the Guiding Hand, the 
Ruling Power.” 

Michael remained lost in thought. That the old African 
loved him as a son he had no doubt. He knew that his 
ardent desire was that he should be the means of converting 
him to the true faith. He knew that the little help wdiich 
he had once been able to give him had won his undying 
gratitude. This strange creature, who had only entered 
upon his university career after his hair had become white 
and his body worn to a shadow, had earned Michael’s 
respect and veneration. He was conscious of the fact that, 
devout Moslem as the recluse was, he did not look upon all 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


111 


Christians as heretics and unclean. Long ago Michael and 
he had exchanged thoughts on their conceptions of God. 
The pious Moslem had come to the conclusion that but for 
his lack of a proper understanding of the Koran and of the 
Prophet’s relation to God, Michael was at heart a Moham- 
medan. He worshipped the one and only God Whom the 
Prophet had come to reveal. Michael believed in Christ just 
as he himself believed in Him, asi one of God’s Messengers, 
as one of God’s Methods of manifesting Himself to man- 
kind. 

He had no hesitation in speaking to Michael or in recit- 
ing passages from the Holy Book in his presence. Daily 
he prayed that he might embrace the faith of Islam. It 
was his love for him and his gratitude which made him 
eager for this happiness to be bestowed upon his benefactor. 

For a long time Michael remained with his old friend, 
who was glad to learn from him many things which could 
never have reached his ears from any other source. He 
lived as a hermit and a recluse inside his little cell, which 
was lost in the vast dimensions of the Mosque of el-Azhar. 
As he was lost to the world, so was he surrounded by things 
of the spirit. 

It was late in the afternoon when at last Michael said 
good-bye and the aged student locked himself into his cell. 
His adieu was lengthy and beautiful and expressed in the 
true Moslem fashion. This ardent Englishman was as dear 
to him as a son. He had no sons of his own, or indeed any 
friends who loved him. There was scarcely a soul in his 
old home who remembered his existence. The man who had 
guided the camel at the well had ceased to cause even his 
late master a passing thought. The native teacher who had 
instructed him in the Koran in his boyhood, along with the 
other village children, and who had first inspired him with 
the desire to study the Sacred Book at el-Azhar, had long 
since gone to that world where ‘^black faces shall turn white 
and white faces shall turn black.” 

As Michael retraced his steps circumspectly through the 


11 £ 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


class-rooms of the university and across the open court, 
where the afternoon sun almost blinded him — the darkness 
of the old man’s cell made it seem even fiercer than it had 
been in the morning — his mind was filled with a thousand 
thoughts. He was much more restless than he had been on 
his arrival. Had he done wisely in paying this visit to the 
visionary.^ Was he only adding unrest and bewilderment 
to his soul ? 

The old man’s last words had been to counsel him to fol- 
low the dictates of his own conscience, which was God. 

‘‘On this journey, which will lead you into the Light, a 
child of God will guide you, a child of God will point out 
the way.” These had been his last words. 

Michael knew that with Moslems the expression “a child 
of God” is generally applied to religious fanatics, and to 
simples, people who have not practical sense to enable them 
to enter into the struggle for existence, people who have, 
as the Western world terms it, “a screw loose.” 

“A child of God will lead you. To him has been revealed 
this ancient treasure, which the desert sands have guarded 
for unnumbered years.” 

Michael wondered if he was mad or dreaming. To believe 
a single word of the mystic’s advice seemed rank folly; but 
here again he was brought face to face with a fact stranger 
than fiction. This African had spoken of a King who had 
been God’s messenger before the days of Moses and Christ. 
He was totally without learning, except in the Koran ; he 
was ignorant of the existence or personality of the great 
heretic Pharaoh; of Egyptian history he knew nothing. 
Yet what he had said and visualized fitted in with Michael’s 
theory and belief that Akhnaton had buried a great hoard 
of gold and jewels near his capital of Tel-el-Amarna. Nor 
was Michael alone in his belief in this theory. 

As the gate of the university was closed behind him, 
Michael took a last look at the wonderful scene. 

Groups of woolly^-haired Africans, as black as the basalt 
tablets in the museum, were seated on the floor of the white 


TKERIi: WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


113 


marble court. Some were eating their frugal meal ; some 
were lying on their backs resting; while others were lost in 
pra3^er. Here and there a tall sheikh or a professor was 
standing talking to a group of students, seated on the 
ground at his feet, his flowing robes and majestic turban 
proclaiming the distinction of his calling. Not one of the 
professors or teachers received a penny for their services; 
the most learned men in Egypt offered their services free. 
The idea and theory of the institution is beautiful and ele- 
vating. 

Yet Michael knew that to Freddy the whole thing was a 
waste of time and an antediluvian affair. In the matter of 
education, the modern Egyptian would have been left hope- 
lessly^ behind in the progress of the world, but for the Gov- 
ernment schools instituted under the British occupation. 
These men at el-Azhar were learning nothing which could 
ever serve to put one penny into their pockets. 

He could hear Freddy repeating his favourite words of a 
great modern writer, should always distrust the progress 
of people who walk on their heads. I should always beware 
of people who sacrifice the interests of their country to 
those of mankind.” 

Freddy had thrown the words at Michael’s head hundreds 
of times when he had givep expression to his Utopian ideas 
of oiling the world’s creaking hinges, of preventing his 
predicted world-wide disaster. Michael always considered 
that the whole of what was termed the civilized world was 
^Valking on its head,” that only vanity could blind those 
who ruled and governed, only arrogance could hide the fact 
that the seats of the mighty were tottering. 

Freddy did honestly distrust people ^ Vho walked on their 
heads,” yet Michael thought that he would surely still more 
distrust the people who did not walk according to their con- 
sciences, people who lived the lives marked out for them by 
others, by the conventions of the world. 

This old man, in his dark cell, nursed in the very bowels 
of Islam, had achieved his heart’s desire. He had fulfilled 

8 


114 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


the purpose of his life, a purpose which to Freddy seemed 
useless and wasteful. That was another question. He had 
left a life of endless toil under the tropical sun of primitive 
Africa for w:hat to Freddy would have seemed a mad pur- 
pose — ^to walk to Cairo and spend the last few years of his 
existence in the silent contemplation of God. 

As he thought of the man’s former life, Michael could 
hear his sonorous voice chanting the name of Allah in a 
hundred beautiful forms, as his bare brown limbs followed 
in the slow footsteps of a lean white camel round and 
round a native well. 

Truly, perseverance can work miracles. Faith had 
moved mountains, for God had sent this pauper at the well 
means whereby he was to achieve his life-long prayer. 
Michael had been allowed to cross his path. This penniless 
African had never doubted, he had trusted in Allah. Con- 
flicting doubts and arguments had delayed Michael. He 
had drifted, one day urged by the unconquerable voice, the 
next cut off from his purpose by the advice and companion- 
ship of prosperous friends. He felt that his faith would 
move no mountains, his perseverance perform no miracles. 

Were Mohammedans more zealous than Christians.^ Was 
there in theory, in ideals, any other institution in the world 
like el-Azhar.? These students were not paupers; this was 
no charitable institution. In this court were men of all 
social grades and professions, eager students gathered to- 
gether for one purpose from every part of the Moham- 
medan world. 

And yet Michael thought that, beautiful as it all was in 
theory, wonderful as was the indescribable power of Islam, 
it gave few, if any, of its children the true conception of 
God. They learned nothing of the tender Father, of the 
beauty of Aton. In Islam there is no consciousness of God 
in the song of the thrush to its mate, no sacredness in the 
bud of a lily. In spite of all the exquisite names by which 
a Moslem addresses his God, His seat is ever in the high 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


115 


heavens, He still remains to him the Omnipotent God of 
Israel, the all-powerful Jehovah. 

Even his old friend, who could visualize the joys of 
paradise and smell the perfume of sweet jasmine in his dark 
cell, did not hear God’s voice in the laughing brook, or see 
His raiment in the blue of the lotus. 

Of Akhnaton’s closer and more human religion they were 
ignorant. These students offered obedience and reverence 
and complete surrender. How few of them knew even the 
meaning of love! This court was full of ardent students, 
many of whom had given up well-paid posts to study the 
word of Allah as revealed by the Prophet, yet scarcely one 
of them loved the creatures of this world because they were 
the things of God, because they ' were God. God sang to 
Akhnaton when spring was in the year; the birds were His 
visible form. God smiled to him when the blue lotus cov- 
ered the waters of his lake in the garden-city of his ideal 
capital. 

To the Moslems God is in the heavens; His immovable 
seat is there. To the ecstatic visionaries who live, as his old 
friend lived, so cut off from their natural selves as to be 
unconscious of their physical body, these are the delights 
of paradise, seen through the eyes of mystics. 

Michael, who passionately loved the world and all of God 
that is in it, wished that they could see that the joys of 
paradise are everywhere around us. No visionary’s eyes 
are needed to enjoy their beauty. 

The university was now far behind him ; he was retracing 
his steps to modern Cairo, where the calm of Islam would 
seem like a peaceful dream. The domes of the mosques 
looked like stationary balloons, made of delicate lace, float- 
ing in the blue sky, the tall minarets like lotus buds coming 
up from a vast lake. A soft mist was etherealizing the bald 
realities of the native city. Only here and there a vivid 
patch of colour — the jade- green dome of a saint’s tomb, the 
clear blue or orange of an Arab boy’s shirt, the brightly- 
appliqued portiere of a public bath, or the purple robes of 


116 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


a student of the Khedivial School — these, in their Eastern 
setting, studded the scene with precious gems. 

Thrust back again into the vortex of noise and striving, 
Michael felt as “lonely as a wandering cloud.” His inter- 
view with his old friend had not soothed him ; it had neither 
helped him to determine him in his views, nor to deter him 
from them. His thoughts seemed a part of the surging 
street. Michael Ireton’s counsel was still the only thing 
which he could grasp. He would go and find himself in the 
desert. 

But mingled with this idea came the two other infiuences 
— the old man’s vision, in which he had seen him journeying 
into the desert in search of some hidden treasure — and how 
many visionaries in Egypt had not found treasure, but had 
lost their lives and their minds on journeys after imaginary 
gold.^ — and Margaret’s influence, Margaret, who had been 
given a message for him — of that he felt convinced. She, 
at least, could be trusted, with her sane, practical Lampton 
brain. She had made up no fable. Her vision had not 
been the result of her imagination. And then again came 
Freddy’s voice: 

“I should always distrust the progress of people who 
walk on their heads.” The words kept recurring over and 
over again. 

Did he, Michael, spend his life “walking on his head”.? 
He wished that he knew. 

He was passing the wide terrace of Shepheard’s Hotel, 
where tourists enjoy afternoon-tea. The scene was cosmo- 
politan and gay. Michael was walking on the side-path, 
under the level of the terrace. 

Suddenly he felt something drop lightly on his hat. He 
looked up, and as he did so a stephanotis flower fell into the 
street and his eyes were met by two of clear azure blue. 

“What a brown study !” a taunting voice said. “Come 
and have a cup of tea.” 

“No, thanks,” Michael said. “I’m not dressed for this 
sort of thing.” He indicated the gaily-dressed crowd. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


117 


“I insist,” Millicent Mervill said, and as she spoke, she 
stretched out her hand and nipped out the book Michael had 
in his coat-pocket. ‘‘Now you’ll have to come and get it, 
and I’ll order tea. Fresh tea, for two, please, Mohammed,” 
she said to the waiter who was standing near her table. 

Michael turned reluctantly and walked up the flight of 
steps which took him on to the hotel-terrace. 

“How nice!” Mrs. Mer\dll said happily. “Now tell me 
where have you been. I heard you were in Cairo. Were 
you going back without seeing me.?^” 

“How did you know I was in Cairo 

“Ah, that’s telling! First of all you tell me what you 
have been doing. You look tired.” Her voice was tender. 
“You are not happy And I have been very good!” 

“I am tired,” Michael said. “Cairo tires me after the 
desert. I have been to el-Azhar.” 

“To the university ? I want to go there. If we had only 
gone together! Why didn’t you take me.^” 

A strange smile changed Michael’s expression. If Milli- 
cent Mervill had been there! He thought of her in that 
courtyard, in her luxurious modern clothes. How absurd 
her becoming hat would have seemed, how grotesque her 
daintily slippered feet ! How little she divined his thoughts. 

“What took you there to-day Tell me.” 

“I have an old friend there, a student.” 

“A native, do you mean.^” 

“Yes, a native from the country south of Gondokoro.” 

“Gondokoro.? How did you come to know him.^” 
Millicent Mervill’s curiosity was unlimited. Her persistence 
resembled the perseverance which is Islam. 

“It’s a long story,” Michael said. “I always go to see 
him when I come to Cairo. He’s a mystic and a religious 
recluse. I like him. We are great friends.” 

Mohammed had returned with the tea, and Michael, who 
was more than ready for it, lapsed into silence while he ^te 
his Huntley and Palmer biscuits and drank his tea. His 
thoughts went back to el-Azhar. 


118 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


His silence lasted for some time. He was very far from 
Shepheard’s Hotel. Margaret had not forgotten her prom- 
ise. She was closer than Millicent. 

‘‘You are not very polite — I have had to pump you with 
questions, or you would not have spbken at all. I have been 
patient while you drank your tea ; now talk to me.” 

“Please forgive me, but you know I did not want to come. 
I was hungry and I was going back to tea. I am not good 
company.” 

“You didn’t want to come.^” She laughed. “Really, 
your rudeness is refreshing! The desert has made you 
worse than ever.” 

Michael looked into her beautiful eyes. “I am in no 
temper for banter. You know what I mean, you know why 
I didn’t want to have tea with you or see you. Rudeness 
between us is out of the question.” 

“All this because you’re a dear old puritan. Or is it be- 
cause” — she hardened her eyes — “because you’re afraid of 
the dark-haired girl.?^ Has she forgiven you.^” In the 
same breath she said, “When are we going on our journey.?^ 
It’s my turn soon.” 

“What do you mean.?^” he said. “I wish you wouldn’t 
talk like that. We are going on no journey.” 

“You’ll let me give you another cup of tea.? — I’m al- 
lowed to do that much. Well, I had my fortune told two 
days ago by a man at the Pyramids. He’s supposed to be 
very clever. He said I was going on a journey into the 
desert with a man I loved; he spoke of some great thing 
that was going to happen on the journey. He described 
you accurately. He was really very funny — I wish you 
could have heard him. He saw great wealth for you and 
some misfortunes.” 

Michael looked into her mischievous eyes. “They talk a 
lot of rot.” 

“Then you don’t believe in that sort of thing.? He saw 
sickness and gold and love. We were in the desert. He saw 
gold.” 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


119 


‘^Hush,” Michael said. “You must forget all that.” 

“It was odd, wasn’t it.^ You ki^ow how I have urged you 
to go with me. I never saw the man before ; he has never 
seen you.” 

Again Michael said “Hush.” Again Millicent paid no 
attention to him, beyond saying that it was funny that he 
would never allow her to talk of her love for him, when he 
had often told her all about his religion of love. 

Again Michael said, “I refuse absolutely to be drawn 
into a discussion upon the subject. You are frivolous. 
You and I know quite well that yours Is not love.” 

“Perhaps not your kind of love, with a big L. But call 
a rose by whatsoever name you will, it smells as sweet. I 
can’t quote, but you know what I mean, and that true love 
without passion and passion without love are both worthless. 
Every fanatic has passion in his or her love. That is why 
they enjoy It — the scourging of the flesh, the self-denial — 
the body enjoys this form of self-torture for the object of 
its adoration. There,” she said, “I will behave like the dear 
little innocent you first thought I was if you will come and 
see the Pyramids at sunset.” The swift transition of her 
thoughts was typical of her personality. 

Michael’s train did not leave the station for Luxor until 
nine-thirty. He had nothing to do. 

“If you’ll come,” she said, “I’ll not do or say one thing 
to hurt you. I’ll be my very nicest — and I can be nice and 
good now, can’t I.f^” 

“Then come,” he said. “I’ve not been there since the 
‘Great Weeping.’ ” He used the old man’s picturesque 
term for the inundation of the Nile. 

Millicent Mervill was no fool. She meant to keep^to her 
word, and did. The evening’s excursion proved a great 
success and restored Michael to a more normal state of mind. 


120 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


CHAPTER XI 

When Michael got back to the camp there was so much 
genuine pleasure in being one of the trio again that he felt 
that it had been well worth the trouble of the journey, to be 
received back again so warmly and to see unclouded happi- 
ness in Margaret’s smile. Her character was transparently 
sincere. 

How radiant she looked, as Freddy and she hurried to 
meet him ! A glad picture for tired eyes. 

‘‘Things are ‘piping’ !” she said eagerly, when he in- 
quired about the “dig.” “Freddy has only been waiting 
for you to come back before he clears out the last few days’ 
debris from the shaft. He has been tidying up the site — it 
looks much more important.” 

Tired as Michael was after his hot journey, instinctively 
they turned their steps to the excavation. Things had cer- 
tainly advanced greatly during Michael’s absence. The 
deep shaft was almost cleared of rubbish; the site was 
tidied up and in spick-and-span order. 

Michael was very soon drawn into the feeling of excite- 
ment and anticipation. Freddy, he thought, looked tired 
and anxious, which was, of course, only natural, for Michael 
knew that on his shoulders rested the entire responsibility 
of the “dig” and that anything might happen during the 
time they were waiting for the photographer and the Chief 
Inspector. 

Michael’s imagination was ever too vivid. He could see a 
hundred plundering hands stretched out in the darkness to 
seize the buried treasure. He could visualize the poisoning 
of the watch-dogs and the silent killing of the guards, and 
Freddy waking up to find that his “pet tomb” had been 
burgled and robbed of its ancient treasures. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


121 


A good deal of discussion ensued between Michael and 
Freddy which was above Margaret’s head. The approxi- 
mate date of the tomb and a hundred different suggestions 
and problems which were still beyond her knowledge were 
gone into by the two Egyptologists. The soothsayer’s pre- 
dictions were not improbable; there were evidences which 
suggested that the tomb was one of great importance. 

“Let’s get back to dinner,” Freddy said. “I scarcely 
had any lunch — I couldn’t leave the men. I’m ready for 
some food.” 

Instantly they retraced their steps. Margaret was hum- 
ming softly the air of some popular song. - Both she and 
Michael were always anxious to administer to Freddy’s 
wishes. 

“It’s topping to be back,” Michael said. “The smells in 
Cairo were pretty bad. This is glorious!” 

They had almost reached the hut. 

“We have only mummy smells here,” Margaret said. 
“But they get pretty thick, as the store-room fills up with 
finds.” She looked round. “Freddy, if I’d a little water, 
I could make the desert blossom like the rose.” She sighed 
happily. “As it is, it’s ^paradise enow’— I don’t think I 
want it other than it is.” 

While they were at dinner, which, compared to their 
usual simple fare, was of the fatted-calf order and one of 
Margaret’s devising, Michael told them of all that he had 
done in Luxor and Cairo, not keeping back even his excur- 
sion to the Pyramids or his visit to el-Azhar. Freddy was 
greatly entertained by both episodes, the one as a strong 
antidote to the other. 

Michael had, of course, given but few details of either 
experience. The mystic’s counsel was not, he felt, suited for 
discussion and certainly he had no wish to annoy Margaret 
by unnecessary remarks about Millicent Mervill. 

There was something in Mike’s manner which assured 
Freddy that the influence of the mystic had triumphed, that 


122 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


the beautiful Millicent had not exercised her usual powers 
over his friend. 

During the recital of his doings, Margaret met Mike’s 
eyes frankly. Hers were without questions or doubts. She 
felt as Freddy did — that the woman whom she so much dis- 
liked had not again come between them. After all, the 
promise which she had given Michael, and which she had 
kept, might have availed. 

As Michael had never spoken one word of love to Mar- 
garet, she had, of course, no right to expect him to behave 
towards her as if they were engaged ; and yet there was that 
between them which meant far more than a mere formal 
proposal and acceptance of marriage. Some influence had 
brought them together in a manner which seemed outside 
themselves. They had been the closest friends from the very 
first. Her vision had united their interests. 

I Of marriage as the definite result of their close, yet indefi- 
nite intimacy, Margaret still never thought. Mike and 
marriage seemed qualities which separated like oil and water. 
All she asked of fate at present was the continuance of their 
^unique friendship and the life which she found so absorb- 
ingly interesting. A year ago she had longed to come to 
Egypt, but a year ago she had never dreamed that she 
would become so thrilled with the excavating of a tomb 
which had been made for a man who probably lived before 
Moses. The human side of Egyptology was being revealed 
to her. She did not feel now as if her brother was only 
going to discover a fresh mummy to put away in a museum 
somewhere ; he was going to break into the secret dwelling- 
house of a man who had taken his treasures with him to live 
for ever in the bowels of the smiling hills. There are few 
tombs in Egypt as the Western world thinks of tombs ; 
there are eternal mansions, gorgeously decorated and 
superbly built and equipped. The abiding cities of the 
Egyptians were the cities of the dead. 

Margaret was living on the horizon of life. Every 
breath of desert air was like delicious food ; every dawn and 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


123 


sunset stored her heart with dreams; each fresh intimacy 
with Michael placed a new jewel in the casket of her soul; 
every hour with Freddy was a privilege and a reward. In 
her veins the dance of youth tripped a lightsome measure. 
Happiness made every moment vital. 

During Michael’s absence she had been down the valley 
and up the valley and through its hidden ways; she was 
familiar now with the native life in the camp and with the 
sights and sounds of Egypt. The flight of a falcon over 
the Theban hills seemed as familiar to her as the bounding 
of a wild rabbit on the Suffolk wolds. The desolation of the 
valley had now become the Spirit of Peace, the Voice of 
Sympathy. Her jealousy was aroused at the very thought 
of another woman being admitted into the privacy of the 
camp. Being a true woman, it gave her intense satisfaction 
to be the only one, to be the chosen companion of her 
brother and of Mike. 

The}^ were always eager for her companionship. If 
Freddy did not want her, Mike did ; if Mike had work to do 
which demanded perfect solitude, she felt that Freddy was 
not sorry. Yet they were all three such good friends that 
more often than not they played together delightfully 
childish games. It was nevertheless rather a red-letter day 
for either of the two men when circumstances so arranged it 
that Meg had to go off with one of them alone on some 
excursion which combined business with pleasure. 

Margaret, womanlike, loved the nicest of all feelings — 
“being wanted.” She would have liked her life to go on for 
ever just as it was, her society always desired by two of the 
dearest men in the world and her days filled with this novel 
and extraordinary work. 

But even in the desert, things do not stand still. If they 
did, temples could not have been buried and cities lost. So 
after dinner, when Freddy, like the dear human brother 
that he was, allowed Michael and Margaret to spend some 
considerable time alone, the high gods took in hand the 


IM 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


affairs of these two human lives, lives which had been well 
content to rest on their oars and drift with the tide. 

Michael had had no prearranged desire to change the con- 
ditions of their intimacy. It was beautiful. He had given 
no thought to himself as Margaret’s lover. He had been 
content to be her partner in that tip-toe dance of expecta- 
tion and in that state of undeclared devotion which is the 
life and breath of a woman’s existence. 

On the evening of his return to the camp he felt a new 
joy in Margaret’s presence. Catching the sound of her 
voice in her coming and going about their small hut was a 
delicious assurance of the happiness that was to be his for 
some days to come. She illuminated the place and vitalized 
his energies. Yet this deepened pleasure told him nothing 
■ — nothing, at any rate, of what the gods had up their 
sleeves. 

They were standing, as they had often stood before, on 
some high ridge of the desert cliff which overlooked its 
desolation and immensity. Margaret’s face was star-lit; 
her beauty softened. As Michael gazed at her, he lost 
himself. 

As unexpectedly to Margaret as to himself, his arms en- 
folded her. He told her that he loved her. 

This confession of his feelings for her was so sudden, a 
thing so far beyond his self-control and so inevitable, that 
Margaret made no attempt to withstand it. The beauty of 
it humbled her to silence; the generosity of life and its gift 
to her bewildered her. Two tears rolled quickly down her 
cheeks. 

Michael saw them and loved her all the more tenderly. 

Absurd tears, when her heart could not contain all her 
happiness ! Meg dived for her handkerchief. Michael cap- 
tured her hands; he took his own handkerchief and dried 
her cheeks, while laughter, mingled with weeping, pre- 
vented her from speaking. 

‘T didn’t mean to tell you, Meg,” he said. ‘Tt just came 
out, as if it wasn’t my own self who was speaking.” 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


125 


The humour of his words drove the tears from her eyes. 
Still she did not speak, but he saw the influence of her smile. 

mean,” he said, ‘‘that this other me has loved you all 
the time, the me that couldn’t help speaking, the me that 
recognized the fact ever since I saw you at the ferry. How 
I loved the first glimpse of you, Meg !” 

He drew her more closely to him. “May I love you, 
dearest.^” He bent his head; their lips were almost touch- 
ing ; he held her closely. “First tell me that our friendship 
is love.” 

His breath warmed her cheeks ; she could feel the tension 
of his body. Lost in his strength, Meg was speechless. 
The greatness of her love seemed a part of the wide Sahara. 
The stillness and his arms were lovelier than all the dreams 
she had ever dreamed. 

His voice was a low whisper. “Meg, do you love me.^” 
His lips had not taken their due. 

Meg’s fingers encircled her throat. “Love is choking me. 
... I can’t speak.” 

Instantly Michael’s head bent lower. He kissed her lips, 
and then, for the first time, Margaret knew what it was to 
be dominated by her senses. Thought fled from her; her 
lover’s lips and his strength, for he seemed to be holding 
her up in a great world of impressions in which she could 
feel no foundation, w^ere the two things left to her. 

Michael realized that now and for ever there could be no 
going back. Their old state of friendship was shattered. 
His kiss had carried them at a rate which has no definition. 

Margaret returned his love with a devout and beautiful 
passion. Eve had not been more certain that Adam was 
intended for her by God. 

“Meg,” he said, “how do you feel.?^ I feel just a little 
afraid. I had no idea that love was like this. Had you? 
You have suddenly become as personal and necessary to me 
as my own arms or legs. You were you before — now you 
are a bit of me.” 

They were standing apart, facing each other, arms out* 


126 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


stretched, hands in hands. Now and then the bewilderment 
of things made it very compelling, this desire to look and 
look into each other’s eyes, to try to discover new charac- 
teristics born of their amazing confession. 

“It’s a tremendous thing,” Meg said thoughtfully, “a 
tremendous and wonderful thing.” 

“If we have only lived for this one hour, it’s worth it,” 
Mike said. “To you and me it’s certainly a tremendous 
thing.” 

Some lover’s questions followed, questions which Mar- 
garet had to answer, the sort of questions every woman 
knows whom love has not passed over, questions which Mar- 
garet, with all her fine Lampton brains and common sense, 
did not think foolish, questions which she answered more 
easily and accurately than any ever set to her in college 
or university examinations. She answered them, too, with 
a fine understanding of human nature. Lampton brains 
were not to be despised, even in the matter of “How, when 
and where did you first love me.?” 

She knew quite well what Michael meant when he said 
that he was a little afraid. She, too, felt a little afraid, 
just because things could never be the same again. Love in 
Egypt seemed to become Egyptian in its immensity and 
power. It was a part of the desert and in the brightness 
of each glittering star. She doubted if she could have 
felt this tremendousness of love in England. Had some- 
thing in the power of Egypt, in the passing of its civiliza- 
tion and religions, affected her senses.? She could not 
imagine feeling, as she now felt, in Suffolk. Here, in this 
valley of sleeping Pharaohs, in this eternal city of a lost 
civilization, she had been transformed into another creature. 

These thoughts jumbled themselves together in her mind, 
as they dawdled back to the camp, the happy dawdling of 
lovers. 

Suddenly Michael caught her in his arms and said, “Meg, 
how on earth am I going to make you understand how 
much I love you.?” 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


127 


Meg read an unhappy meaning in the words. “I shall 
understand,” she said. think something outside myself 
will help me to understand.” 

He turned her face up to the stars. It was bathed in 
light. 

“You beautiful Meg, the stars adore you!” 

Meg struggled and laughed. “Pm so glad my face is all 
right, that you like it, Mike.” 

Mike laughed. “I shouldn’t mind if you weren’t beauti- 
ful, you know I shouldn’t, for you’d still be you.” 

Meg’s practical common sense was not to be drugged by 
love’s ether. “Dear,” she said happily, “don’t talk rub- 
bish ! As if you, with your artistic sense and love of beauty, 
would have fallen in love with me if I had turned-in-feet 
and a face half forehead, just because I was me.” 

They both laughed happily. Then Michael said, sadly 
and abruptly — his voice had lost its confidence — “Why 
have I let myself say all this, Meg.^^ What thrust my feel- 
ings into expression, feelings I scarcely was conscious of 
possessing until I saw you lit up by the shining stars I 
never, never planned such a thing.” 

“I know,” Meg said. “We neither of us dreamed of it 
when we left the hut, did we.^” 

“I had a thousand other things to consult you about, to 
tell you,” he said. “I have a thousand other things to do. 
I have a mission to fulfil before I speak of love. It just 
came, it suddenly bubbled up and poured over like water 
in a too-full bottle.” 

“Do you regret it.?^” Margaret said simply and sympa- 
thetically. She was not hurt ; she knew what he meant ; she 
knew that he had more than once spoken of the single- 
heartedness of a man’s work, the work which Mike hoped 
to do, when he had no family ties, no woman’s love to bind 
him, to nourish and satisfy. 

“Dearest — I don’t regret it,” he said. “It was inevitable. 
Something else would have called it forth if the stars 


128 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


hadn’t. All the same, it is of you I am thinking ... I 
had no right to . . 

“To what, Mike?” 

“Pm a drifter, Meg, and I’m not ready to be anything 
else — I can’t be.” 

“I don’t want you to be anything else.” Meg’s voice and 
laugh were Love. Her sincere eyes were happily confident. 

“People who Valk on their heads’ don’t make fortunes, 
beloved.” 

“People who think the desert is ‘paradise enow’ don’t 
need fortunes.” 

Michael pressed the palms of her hands to his lips. “Dear 
strong hands,” he said, “are they willing to work with 
mine ?” 

“Oh, Mike,” she said. “I’m so glad, so happy ! It 
doesn’t seem fair — our world’s all heaven to-night — I want 
others to have just a little of it.” 

They listened to the silence. 

Michael’s thoughts were of his world-state, his religion of 
Love, the closeness of God. 

“Every star in the sky seems to know about our love,” 
Meg said. “And I think the waiting silence has been 
expecting this.” 

“I know,” Michael said. “To me love seems to be 
crowding the valley and flying down from the hills and 
searching the stillness. Life’s become a new kind of thing 
altogether, Meg, we’ll have to help each other.” 

“That’s just what I feel. It’s alarming to find yourself 
quite a diflPerent human being in less than an hour, to have 
suddenly developed unsuspected elements in your nature.” 
She laughed. “I never thought I could be such a complete 
fool, dearest.” 

Michael kissed her rapturously. “Let’s be big, big fools, 
beloved, let’s enjoy this thing that’s come to us.” He 
paused. Again he looked troubled and serious. 

“Why trouble?” Meg said. “I know just what’s in your 
heart. You love me and I love you, and I trust you. You 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


129 


weren’t ready for any engagement — you never thought of 
marriage. Well, let all that come in good time if it is 
meant to be. Let us be content with love for the present. 
It’s surely big enough.” She sighed. ^Tt’s tired me, 
Mike, it’s so enormous.” 

“But, dearest, I meant to talk to you about very different 
things. Love just caught me. ... I was taken unawares 
. . • some look of yours did it, or some trick of the stars. 
... I can’t tell which. Anyhow, it’s done.” 

“Tell me,” she said. “All that you had meant to talk 
about. It’s not too late. We must be friends as well as 
lovers now.” 

“It was about my visit to el-Azhar in Cairo.” 

“Yes.?” Meg said. Her breath came more quickly. 

“My old friend told me the most extraordinary things. 
He had seen visions.” 

Their eyes met. Meg’s held a question; they asked: 
“Had they any connection with my vision.?” 

“Yes,” Michael said to her unspoken question. “He saw 
me on a long desert journey. I was often surrounded by a 
wonderful light — a light which, he said, had come from one 
of God’s messengers, who was never far from me. He said 
he saw the messenger of God always in the midst of a great 
light, like the light of the sun, that he resembled no mortal 
he had ever seen, or any king he had ever been shown in 
his dreams.” 

Meg drew in her breath nervously. “Had he ever heard 
of Akhnaton, Mike.?” 

“No, never. He is quite unread, totally unlearned and 
ignorant of all except the teachings of the Koran.” 

Margaret’s quick breathing showed her excitement. 
Michael, too, became nervous. 

“He saw me always in the light of this great messenger, 
a light, he said, which surrounded his figure with rays like 
the rays of the sun.” 

“Just as I saw him,” Meg said. “How strange ! How 
wonderful !” 


9 


130 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


“He spoke of trials and temptations and, strangest of all, 
of much gold. He saw the treasure very clearly and repeat- 
edly — much fine gold, he was certain of that.” 

“How are you to discover it.^” Meg spoke dubiously. 
Her practical mind was fighting against the absurdity of 
the thing. 

“He could not tell me. In the desert I was to be led by 
a little child — you know what that means.?” 

“Yes, a simple, a child of God.” 

They paused. 

“Now the odd thing is,” Michael said thoughtfully, “that 
when I went to see Michael Ireton, he strongly advised me 
to go and find myself, as he expressed it, in the desert. He 
said, ‘Cut yourself off from your friends, from opposing 
influences, and think things out. Go where you are 
called.’ ” 

“He meant Freddy’s opposing influence.?” 

“I suppose so. Freddy’s character is stronger than 
mine, and we have opposite views.” 

“Are you going.?” Meg’s voice betrayed a new anxiety 
and sadness. 

“I meant to.” His eyes spoke of his new reluctance. 
“That was why I had no right to speak — I really wanted 
to go.” 

“This must make no difference — it must help you.” 

“But I shall want to be with you — it’s hard to go.” 

“If you stayed, you would be restless, dissatisfied.” 

“I know.” He laughed. “I want both to ‘walk on my 
head,’ Meg, and stand firmly on my two legs — my legs are 
for a home for you.” 

“And your head.?” 

“Oh,” he said, “for anything that is upside down to what 
it is now, for the total destruction of obsolete and effete 
monuments, for exchanging new principles for those that 
are worn out with age, for showing that fundamental truths 
are not made by empire-builders, that the world is God’s 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 131 

Kingdom, not man’s, that God is the only monarch whose 
throne is not tottering.” 

‘‘Yes,” Meg said. “I suppose destruction must come 
before the building up, your task of pulling down, of clear- 
ing out the corner-stones, of cleansing the temple.” 

“I know,” Michael said. “It’s the way with ‘cranks.’ 
We all of us jaw about destroying and offer no new plans 
for reconstruction.” He paused. “But it’s rather like the 
problem of cleaning out a too-full house — you can’t really 
get rid of the dust unless you first of all clear the whole 
thing out, empty it.” 

“You want to abolish so much, Mike.” 

“All the rubbish,” he said. “All the hindrances. I want 
to let in light.” 

“Beginning with kings,” Meg said, tantalizingly. The 
voice was Freddy’s. 

“I’ve no rooted objection to kings, as human mortals,” 
he said. “I suppose half the monarchs in Europe, and 
certainly our own included, are very good men, very anxious 
for their kingdom’s prosperity, if not for their people’s 
development. It’s the condition of affairs which tolerates 
such an obsolete form of government. If the king is merely 
a picturesque figure-head, like the carved heads of Venus 
on a vessel’s prow, I’d have no objection, but a despotic and 
vain peacock like the Kaiser, who turns his subjects into 
military instruments, in my opinion wants destroying along 
with the other rubbish.” 

“But to go back,” Meg said, “to your old friend in el- 
Azhar — do tell me more about him.” 

“He’s a splendid old warrior,” Michael said tenderly. 
“When you think of what he’s achieved, isn’t he wonder- 
ful.^ I wish you could see him.” 

“The force of will-power, of concentration,” Meg said. 
“I suppose he has never thought of anything else all his 
life, but this one dream of el-Azhar.” 

“That’s it,” Mike said. “But what gives these Moslems 
that wonderful power of mind-control.?^” Mike paused. 


132 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


‘‘Now, here am I,” he said. “I came out with to-night 
meaning to tell you that I was going away.” 

“Oh,” Meg said. “Not yet — not until the tomb is 
opened ? Surely not 

“No, not until the tomb is opened — I had no intention 
of that.” 

She sighed. “That would be too awful.” 

Michael kissed her. “How nice of you!” he said. “You 
really wanted me.^” 

“Of course! I have visualized the opening of the tomb 
— you and I crawling down the ‘dig,’ with Freddy waiting 
at the foot to show us his treasures. You couldn’t have 
gone !” 

“No,” he said, “I couldn’t. But I wanted to tell you 
that I was going soon after. I was going for reasons that 
only my own heart understood. And then what did I do? 
I told you that I loved you! I forgot everything but you, 
dearest. Before I knew it, I had spoken of what it might 
have been wiser to keep hidden away in my heart, with all 
my other mad dreams.” 

“But why, Mike.?* I should have been so very unhappy, 
so wretched. As it is, I am just bursting with happiness. 
I wouldn’t change anything for worlds — not one tiny 
thing !” 

“If you are contented,” he said, “and understand, then 
it may not have been unwise, untrue to Freddy’s trust in 
me.” 

“Oh,” Meg said, “you dear, why, Freddy adores the 
very ground you walk on ! He chaffs you, but he simply 
thinks no end of you.” 

“He doesn’t want a drifter for a brother-in-law, if he’s 
any common sense in his head. I’m the last husband he’d 
choose for his sister.” 

“But, Mike, how can you.?^” 

“Yes, Meg, there are times when I don’t ‘walk on my 
head,’ when I see with Freddy’s sane eyes. It’s what he’d 
call damned cheek of me to speak of love to you.” 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


133 


‘T’d have called it horrid, if you hadn’t.” 

‘Wou delicious Meg, would you really.^” 

“Yes, I would, horrid and cruel. I’d have imagined you 
really cared for . . .” she paused and then went on ten- 
derly, “. . . no, I won’t say it, Mike.” 

“Really cared !” he said. “Why, you have taught me 
what that word means. You’ll never doubt that.?^” 

“No,” Meg said. “Not now. I know this is new to us 
both. I won’t doubt anything ever again.” 

“She was friendless,” he said. “And for some strange 
reason she thought herself fond of me.” 

“What a very strange thing to feel ! I really can’t un- 
derstand it. Fancy a woman feeling fond of a thing that 
walks on its head !” 

“Don’t laugh, Meg. She does, or thinks she does.” 

Meg looked into his eyes. “I’ll never doubt you, Mike,” 
she said, “if you’ll tell me, under these dear stars, which 
have made you confess your love for me, that there has been 
no deep feeling on your side, that there is nothing that mat- 
ters between you.” 

Mike took her two hands. “On my side, there has been 
nothing but friendship, I swear it,” he said. “I never, 
never desired anything else. There has been nothing that 
matters.” 

“I’m so glad,” Meg said. “You’re so high, Mike, so 
awfully high in my love. Your drifting is all a part of it. 
I love you for all your mad dreams and dear unworldliness, 
for your struggling and striving for the highest. I should 
hate to have to believe that you were less high than I im- 
agined.” 

“But I kissed her, Meg,” he said, abruptly. The truth 
was drawn from him, as his confession of love had been, torn 
from him by some power outside himself. He hated giving 
her pain, and it had been scarcely necessary if Margaret 
liad been other than she was. 

It had not mattered — yet if truth was beauty and beauty 
was God, and his religion was that the kingdom of God is 


134 ? 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


within us, how could he hold it back, this deed which, little 
as it might seem in the eyes of most people, had been for 
him a thing which did matter? 

^Wou kissed her!” Meg said. Something that was not 
love was now bursting her throat. Her voice was un- 
certain. It hurt Michael like a thrust from a sharp 
knife. 

‘Wes,” he said. “I kissed her, more than once.” 

“Her lips?” Meg asked. 

“Yes, Meg, her lips.” 

“You kissed her as you have kissed me to-night?” 

“Good heavens, no !” he cried. “Meg, how could you 
think it?” 

“Life is strange,” Meg said, a little wearily. “When 
everything seems most beautiful, some ugliness shows its 
head . . . the light gets so dim.” 

“Dearest,” Mike said, “do you remember what you said 
on that morning when we found each other again? You 
said, ‘Let’s go forward ; things are explained.’ ” 

“Yes, I remember,” she said, and as she spoke happiness 
shone in her eyes like a flame relit; “yes, I said regrets 
were foolish, I said I understood. But . . .” she hesi- 
tated; the thought of Mike’s lips pressed to any other 
woman’s than her own stifled her. She was his so com- 
pletely, that any other man’s lips pressed to hers, except 
Freddy’s, would nauseate her. Yet Mike had kissed Milli- 
cent. Was it that night on the terrace, or the evening at 
the Pyramids? she wondered. 

“We have gone forward, Meg. Millicent” — Meg shiv- 
ered as he said the woman’s Christian name — “was splendid 
at the Pyramids, she really was.” 

Again Meg shivered. Splendid 1 How, she wondered, 
had she been splendid ? Meg hated being an inquisitor, yet 
she had to know; it was her right. 

“Then it was not at the Pyramids that you kissed her?” 
she asked. 

* “No, no!” Mike said. “Of course not!” He looked at 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 135 

her in wonder. ‘^If it had been, I should not have dared to 
kiss you to-night.” 

“It’s nice of you to say that, dear. Oh, Mike,” she said 
tenderly, “you mean the world to me ! I shall grow older 
by years for each moment that we don’t trust one another ! 
I should have known, I should never have doubted ! You’ve 
chosen a very jealous woman, Mike.” 

“If you’d gone off to the Pyramids with some one whom 
I disliked as much as you dislike Millicent, I’d have been 
furious!” He felt Meg shiver. He divined the reason; he 
would not let that hurt her again. “You hate her, Meg,” 
he said. “Just in the way I’d hate a man who . . .” he 
paused. 

“Who what.?” Meg said. 

“Don’t ask me,” he said. “I never forgot you for one 
moment when I was with her at the Pyramids. You kept 
close to me, dearest. And the other episode is past and for- 
gotten — it was just a little bit of vulgarity, Meg, nothing 
more.” 

“Since we made friends, there’s been nothing between you 
that would make your kisses to me a mere vulgarity, 
Mike.?” 

“Nothing,” he said. “And so far as I can help it, I will 
never see Mrs. Mervill again.” 

Meg’s eyes spoke her thanks. His avoidance of the 
woman’s Christian name showed his sensitiveness to her 
feelings. Speaking of her as “Mrs. Mervill” put her pleas- 
antly far away. 

“I was weak and Insincere — my kisses were really a dis- 
honour to any woman, and I hated myself.” 

While Meg admired her lover for refraining from the 
excuse which Adam was not ashamed to offer His Maker, 
what was human in her longed to make him denounce the 
woman she hated. She had tried to provoke a justification 
of his own conduct from his lips by telling her what she 
felt to be the truth — that the woman had tempted him. 

It was getting late ; they turned towards the hut. 


136 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


‘We must go in,” Meg said. “Freddy will be wondering 
what has become of us.” She turned swiftly and took 
Michael’s hands in hers. “Until after the tomb is opened, 
let us remain as we were — I mean, don’t let’s give Freddy 
any more to think about. Isn’t he the dearest brother in 
the world she said. “I love every glittering hair of his 
head!” 

“Very well, you dearest woman,” Mike said. “Besides, 
we’ve only confessed that we love each other — I’ve asked 
for no promise, Meg — I’ve no right to. Remember, you 
are free, absolutely free — this old drifter isn’t to count.” 

“Absolutely free!” Meg laughed. “Just as if w^ords 
made us free! Four walls do not a prison make! You 
know perfectly well that I am tied hand and foot and bound 
all round about with the cords of your love. I can never be 
free again, never belong only to myself, as I used to do.” 

“And will you remember that w^hatever happens to me, 
Meg, it will be just the same.^” 

She knew that he was referring to his mystical journey, 
his unsettled future. 

“It would be so heavenly,” she said dreamily, “if we 
could be content to sit down and be happy and just live for 
the enjoyment of each other’s love!” 

“You’d despise me if I did.” He looked round at the 
eternal valley, resting in the stillness of death. 

“I suppose I should,” Meg said. “I suppose I want you 
to take up arms for what Freddy calls your ‘Utopian Rule 
of Righteousness,’ your world-state.” 

“I think w^e should both feel slackers, just enjoying our- 
selves intellectually, dear, when we could, if we chose, let a 
few others into the great kingdom of God. You and I 
don’t understand w'hy they don’t all see it as we do, why 
they don’t realize the things Akhnaton knew three thou- 
sand years ago. We w^onder w^hy they remain contented 
with a religion of limited dogmas and theological forms. 
They don’t see the obvious in their striving after doctrines. 
They fail to see that God is too big for their churches.” 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 13T 

‘Wou see these things,” Meg said. only creeping 

behind you.” 

“You see that if we understand God and give Him His 
proper place, He’d rule us. His throne would govern a 
world-state. His love would be the law of mankind.” 

“I know,” Margaret said. “It’s beautiful, it’s what 
ought to be, if poor mortals were not human beings.” 

“Mortals are the best things in God’s kingdom — it’s all 
been worked up for their enjoyment and benefit.” 

“I know, dear, I know, but you and I are just you and 
I, and we have just found love, and it is so wonderful, I 
want to enjoy it.” 

“Doesn’t love make it all the more forcible, Meg.^ The 
closeness of God all the more certain ? The weaving of the 
threads of His beautiful fabric all the more golden — 
Akhnaton’s great ‘Lord of Fortune,’ the ‘Master of Things 
Ordained,’ the ‘Chance which gives Life,’ the ‘Origin of 
Fate,’ call it what you will — ^the power which brought us 
here, you and I.” 

“And if we didn’t follow that clear voice, Mike, whose 
rule is righteousness, why should He allow it.'^” 

“Do we ever deliberately do what we know to be wrong 
and not pay for it, dearest 

“But why does He allow it? It’s a mill, dearest — one 
can go round and round, and round and round.” 

“And in the end,” Mike said, “it’s just God, His pre- 
scribed rule. His unfightable force.” 

When the two lovers entered the sitting-room, Freddy 
was instantly as conscious of the new aura which surrounded 
them as he was conscious of the sweet desert air which clung 
to their clothes and bodies. It came like a whiff from a far 
pure world. 

“How fuggy you are in here,” Meg said. “Dear boy, 
stop working.” 

;; “All right,” he said. “I was only waiting for you to 
come in.” Freddy was not the sort to see anything which 


138 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


he was not meant to see. If the two lovers had anything to 
tell him, they would tell him. Until then, he would mind 
his own business. 

‘Wou go and have a smoke outside,” Meg said. ‘^I’ll put 
away all this.” 

‘‘All this” meant the boxes of “finds” and the papers 
of plans and figures which they had all been working at 
earlier in the evening. 


CHAPTER XII 

It was the dawn of the morning on which the tomb was to 
be opened. Meg could not sleep ; the overseer’s shrill 
whistle for the roll-call of the workmen had banished her 
last hopes that a little sleep would come to her before the 
exciting day began. 

The clear whistle called the straggling figures together. 
They were still indefinite objects, moving white columns in 
the darkness which heralds the dawn. They were to begin 
work earlier than usual; Meg could see no signs of the 
coming day in the sky. 

She sprang out of bed, glad to begin some practical 
work to banish the confusion of thoughts which had made 
her brain too active for sleep. Before she had her bath or 
dressed, she felt that she must breathe the cool, pure air out- 
side the hut for a moment or two. 

During the night her thoughts had been mastered by a 
consciousness of the fact that after the great day, after the 
tomb was satisfactorily opened and Michael had accom- 
plished the necessary work in connection with it which 
Freddy might demand of him, he would start out on his 
desert journey. She could not and would not hold him 
back. Things too delicate and indefinite to be described 
had gathered and accumulated, strengthening his deter- 
mination to leave the valley and start out on his apparently 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


139 


objectless journey. As the accumulation of atoms has 
formed continents, so the accumulation of thoughts be- 
comes a thing which controls our destinies. 

The treasure-trove of gold which had been hidden by 
Akhnaton the Dreamer was now as real to Michael as the 
gold-mines in California were real to the miners of the ’49 
rush. He had visualized it over and over again. He was 
undaunted by the fact that many visionaries had seen their 
King Solomon’s mines equally clearly ; but how many have 
reached them.^ He was satisfied that, though his journey 
might prove a complete failure from Freddy’s *point of 
view, until he made it any work he tried to do would be a 
more complete one. There are treasures laid up in heaven 
far beyond the value of rubies and precious jewels, and the 
Kingdom of Heaven which is within us Mike was deter- 
mined to find. 

Meg had given her abundant sympathy, but advice she 
had none to offer. The thing was beyond her, taken out 
of her hands ; it belonged to the part of Michael which she 
loved and admired but did not fully comprehend — the su- 
perman. Her practical common sense was her stumbling- 
block ; it held her with the chains of caution and the doubts 
of a scientific trend of mind, which demands practical 
proofs before it accepts any theory or idea. Although 
she was influenced more deeply by Egypt than she had ever 
imagined it possible to be influenced by the unseen, or by 
atmosphere and surroundings, she still walked firmly on her 
two feet. Her momentary standings on her head were 
■passing and spasmodic. She neither felt convinced nor 
unconvinced upon the subject of Akhnaton’s vision or upon 
the truth and reliability of the old man’s words at el-Azhar. 
Suggestion is so often at the root of what appears to be the 
supernatural. Michael might have talked to the old man, 
as he had often talked to herself, about the possibility of 
such a treasure having been hidden by the King when he, 
Akhnaton, knew that he was dying and when he realized 
that his new capital of Tel-el-Amarna would not long sur- 


140 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


vive his decease, that the priests of the old religion would 
do all in their power to obliterate his memory and teach- 
ings. She knew that Michael was not the only person who 
held this view. He was not the originator of the theory. 

Meg had never had anything to do with people who be- 
lieved in visions and the power of seeing into the future. 
The occult had had no fascination for her. Until she ar- 
rived in the valley all such things had come under the head- 
ing of charlatanism. Her thoughts were different now. 
She# had learned more; she had discovered that her powers 
of vision might be limited to the very fine mental qualities 
of which her family were so proud ; she had found out that 
the sharpest brains for practical purposes may be extremely 
blunt for higher ones. Freddy and she could play with 
figures; problems which could be worked out by practical 
methods were to them difficulties to be mastered by hard 
work, and hard work was pleasure to the Lamptons ; it was 
their form of enjoyment. They were not imaginative ; they 
were combative; they enjoyed a fight which usurped their 
mental energies. 

In Egypt Meg had been given new eyes, new understand- 
ing. There were finer things than mathematical problems, 
things of the super-intellect, infinitely more delicate and 
wonderful, to which neither she nor Freddy held the key. 
She felt like a child. She was a child again, an inquisi- 
tive child, crying out for answers which would satisfy her 
awakening intelligence. Her fine college education had 
^been confined to the insides of books. She knew nothing 
jwhatever of the finer truths which were every day being 
thrust upon her senses. It was just as if Freddy and she 
'were watching a play from a great distance without opera- 
glasses, while Michael had very powerful ones. He could 
see things beyond their horizon ; he was in touch with peo- 
ple who inhabited a world to which they could not travel. 

Too often Michael’s thoughts were divided from hers by 
continents of space. She was often alone. She longed 
passionately to say to him that she really believed in all 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


141 


that he believed in. Her beautiful honesty did not permit 
it. Her limitations tormented her. It was like having a 
cork leg in a race. If she could only get rid of her Lamp- 
ton, materialistic, common-sense nature, she would be more 
able to advise and counsel her lover. Poor Meg ! Thoughts 
like these had fought for coherence all night. 

She little knew that her nature was the perfect adjust- 
ment which Michael’s needed. He came to her, not only as 
a lover, but as a tired traveller in search of rest. Her rea- 
soning mind and cautious nature gave him balance. When 
he had been standing on his head for too many hours to- 
gether, Meg put him on his feet again. 

This morning Meg needed putting on her own feet. She 
was hopelessly tormented with questions which she could not 
answer. One minute Michael’s whole scheme ought to be 
discouraged ; his belief in the occult was a thing to be sup- 
pressed; it was dangerous and unhealthy. The next, she 
found herself with energies vitalized and glowing over the 
certainty that there must be truth in the idea, that there 
must be some meaning in the repeated messages conveyed 
either by dreams or by whatsoever one chose to call them. 
Thoughts certainly had been conveyed to him. 

Then the glowing vision of Michael actually discovering 
the lost treasure of Akhnaton would vanish and she would 
see him, just as clearly, alone and ill in the desert, in lack 
of funds and abandoned by his men. She knew his casual 
methods of making practical arrangements and his total 
disregard for his personal health and safety. 

She was watching the coming dawn while her thoughts 
were creating misfortunes and calling up unhappy visions 
of Michael alone in the desert. The old man at el-Azhar 
had spoken of temptations and sickness. If the treasure 
was a fact, then the sickness and temptation were facts 
also. But what were the temptations.? Did he allude to 
the spiritual or the material man ? 

Suddenly her thoughts were obliterated, her self-inflicted 
suffering wiped out. She had no thoughts, no conscious- 


142 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


ness; for her nothing existed but the luminous and won- 
derful figure of Akhnaton which had formed itself in front 
of her. At first her astonished eyes had seen it dimly, then 
clearly and still more clearly. 

Meg remained perfectly still. She was too awestruck, 
too amazed, to move or speak. The vision became sur- 
rounded by light, by the rays of Aton. It was months since 
she had first seen it ; now in the dawn, it seemed as if it had 
only been the night before. A sense of rest came to her 
as she gazed at it. 

“Thy dawning is beautiful in the horizon of heaven, 

O living Aton, Beginning of Life! 

When thou risest in the eastern horizon of heaven. 

Thou fillest every land with thy beauty; 

For thou art beautiful, great, glittering, high over the earth. 

Thy rays, they encompass the land, even all thou hast made.” 

Meg listened intently to the words They were part of 
Akhnaton’s Hymn to the Rising Sun, the hymn which Mike 
had repeated to her. 

She waited until the words were lost in the silent hour. 
Every thought of hers was known to the sad eyes, every 
longing in her heart to be given power to speak was under- 
stood. It seemed to come naturally to her, the understand- 
ing of the needlessness for her to do aught but listen. The 
vision was her over-soul, her higher self, which understood. 

“You have delivered my message. I have seen, I have 
approved. The Lord of Peace, the Living Aton, besides 
whom there is none other, has brought Life to his heart. 
The beauty of Aton is there.” 

It was of Michael the vision spoke. Meg never doubted. 
“His pleasure is to do thy bidding,” she said. The words 
were the unstudied, simple truth. 

“I have seen, always I have guided, always I have prayed. 
I have revealed to him the Light which is Truth. His work, 
which is the Love of Aton, is in his heart. The Lord of 
Fate has perfected it.” 

“I would have him go, and yet, because I am not fully in 
the Light, I would have him stay. All that is in my heart 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 143 

is plain to you — my fears, my joys, my imperfect faith. I 
ask for help; I am troubled.” 

‘‘There is no poverty, no fear, for those who have set 
Aton in their hearts; for my servant there is no danger. 
Hearts have health where Aton shines.” 

“But for me — how can I help him.?^” 

“By the perfection of Love.” 

“But my love is imperfect. It is not divine. I fear for 
his bodily welfare. I cannot willingly offer him to the Aton 
of whom you speak. I can only understand my own selfish 
love ... it is human.” 

“You are the mistress of his happiness. In my King- 
dom, while it was on earth, my heart was happy in my 
Queen and in my children. The great Lord and Giver of 
Light is none other than the Loving Father, the tender hus- 
band, the devoted son. There is none other than the liv- 
ing Aton, whose kingdom is within us. We are Love, we 
are Aton.” 

“Then my love is no hindrance.^” 

“God is Love, God is Happiness, God is Beauty.” 

There was infinite understanding and tenderness in the 
words, but Meg’s honesty was persistent. 

“My love is not that sort of love, but it is very dear to 
me. It is selfish and human. It is wrapped round with 
natural desires, my own personal wants.” 

“Is there any love which is not of Aton.?^ Does He ex- 
pect things other than He has made ?” 

“I am in darkness ; I have so many fears.^’ 

“Your soul is not shut off from that which it desires. 
Your fears can be turned to understanding; no forces of 
darkness can hold against the powers of Light. If you 
open your heart to the Living Truth, the powers of dark- 
ness are disarmed. Aton is enthroned. He is the sole crea- 
tor of all things created.” 

The sky was changing from a cold grey to the opales- 
cence of dawn. A line of light was slowly appearing and 
widening on the horizon. As it spread and grew more dis- 


144 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


tinct, the luminous figure became less clear; the rays of 
Aton shone less vividly. Akhnaton’s spirit had come forth 
from the Underworld to see the sun rise on the world he 
so passionately loved. This had been one of his most in- 
sistent and ardent prayers while he reigned on earth, that 
after death his ‘Hwo eyes might be opened to see the sun,” 
that ^‘the vision of the sun’s fair face might never be lost to 
him,” that he might ‘^obtain a sight of the beauty of each 
recurring sunrise.” 

Meg stood in an awed silence, her subliminal self alone 
conscious of the grave, sad eyes, which were watching the 
splendour of the sun as it came over the edge of the desert. 
The rapidity of its uprising was amazing. It had burst the 
bonds of darkness with a strength and force which re- 
sembled the triumph of a victorious army. At its coming 
the darkness was scattered. Its quickly-spreading rays 
were driving back the forces of the enemy. With fine gen- 
eralship it was following up the victory with renewed at- 
tacks. 

The form of the Pharaoh was only dimly visible. Its 
luminousness had disappeared. It was a shadow in the 
light. The prayer of all Egyptians from time immemor- 
ial had been that they might each day “leave the dim Un- 
derworld in order to see the light of the sun upon earth.” 
Akhnaton had prayed this prayer, which was ancient before 
his day. 

Meg knew that his prayer had been answered. Akhna- 
ton, the King, the passionate heretic, the visionary and the 
prophet, was seeing his adored ^un rising over his king- 
dom. His persistent prayers had been granted, his desire 
realized. His spirit had come forth to see the sun’s rays. 
As he gazed at the sun, the years had rolled back. Three 
thousand years are but a span in the march of eternity. He 
was alone with his God, as alone as the Moslem figures who 
were prostrating themselves to the ground. He was enjoy- 
ing the beauty of Aton in the silent valley, which his foot- 
steps had so often trod, the valley overlooking the city 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 146 

which to him, in his manhood, became the city of abomina- 
tion and desolation, the city of false gods. 

As the light of day flooded the desert, the figure became 
invisible to Meg. It seemed to melt into the golden air. 
She felt that it might still be standing there, quite close to 
her, only she could not see it. Her powers were limited; 
the light concealed the figure. Being luminous, she had 
been able to see it clearly in the darkness, just as she was 
able to see the luminous match-box which she always kept 
on a table by her bedside. She knew it was there, always 
shining, only her eyes were unable to see its brightness in 
the daylight. The figure of Akhnaton might be near her 
still. How clearly it had stood out in the darkness, how 
brightly the rays of the sun had declared the symbol of 
Aton! 

Had it all been an optical delusion, born of her nervous 
condition Or was it a dream Was she still in bed 
sleeping.?^ How could she prove to herself that she was 
awake, that she had come out to see the dawn, that she was 
standing in front of her hut and not asleep in bed.^ In 
her dreams, she had often dreamed that she was dreaming; 
she had often told herself that her dreams were all dreams ; 
she had often done things in her dreams to prove to her- 
self that they were not dreams. If she stooped to pick up 
some sand to prove that her feet were pressing the desert, 
might not that, too, be a part of her dream What on 
earth was there to prove the real from the unreal 

Now that she knew about Akhnaton and his beautiful 
religion, which is the religion of all reasoning mortals to- 
day, and had read something of his life and mission, was it 
not quite probable that she was creating all that she had 
seen, that she was deceiving herself It was still possible 
that she was dreaming. 

With nerves unstrung and a beating heart, she saw 
Michael appear. He was in his early-morning top-coat. 
He, too, had been greeting the sun. He had made a hasty 
sketch of the first colours in the sky. 

10 


146 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


“Mike,” Meg cried, in a tone of relief and anxiety. 
“Mike, I want you, do come here !” 

The next moment Mike’s arms were round her ; her head 
was on his shoulder. 

“What is the matter, dearest.?” 

“The vision, Mike! I have seen it again — it has been 
even more wonderful. Oh, Mike!” A stifled sob came 
from Margaret’s full heart; the tension of her nerves was 
relaxed by the comfort of human arms, of human mag- 
netism. 

“And you were afraid, dearest.?” He held her closer; 
his strength nerved her. Oh, welcome humanity ! 

“Afraid.? No — oh no, it wasn’t fear.” 

“What then, dear one.?” 

“I can’t explain it. If only you had been with me !” 
She clung to him. 

“I should not have seen him, Meg, it is not meant that 
I should. Look, darling, I have been near you — I was 
making a sketch of the sunrise.” 

Meg looked in wonder at the sketch. There was no fig- 
ure there ; that was the only point of interest it contained 
for her at the moment. 

“It is not there,” she said disappointedly; her voice 
expressed astonishment. “Then you saw nothing.?” 

“Nothing of what you saw.” 

“Then why does it come to me.? I am the very last per- 
son to understand, to desire it.” 

“Dearest, the wisdom of God’s ways is past our present 
very limited understanding. Why did He make the world 
as He did.? Why did He form the mountains by the drift- 
ing of particles into the ocean? Why did He evolve the 
spirit of man from a source which has baffled science? Why 
does He let us know so much and understand so little?” 

“I loved seeing him, Mike. He talked to me. I wasn’t 
afraid while he was there. It’s the wonder of it now that 
it’s past, the strangeness; something greater than myself 
gets into me when the vision is there.” 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


147 


‘‘Consider the privilege, Meg, the amazing privilege!” 

Mike’s brain was working and wondering. Why, oh 
why, had he not been privileged.^ Why had Meg again 
seen the Living Truth 

Meg divined his thoughts; her fervent wish was that he 
also had seen it. “Nothing further from fear ever pos- 
sessed me, Mike, and yet now I feel horribly unnerved. If 
you hadn’t come to me, I don’t know what I should have 
done. The first time it was different. I wonder why. I 
wasn’t a bit like this, was I, dearest 

“No, I don’t know why you feel so differently this time. 
What happened.^ Can you tell me, or would you rather 
wait.f^” Mike recognized her nervous state. 

“I came out to see the sunrise. I hadn’t slept — I was 
thinking about the opening of the tomb and of all that is to 
happen afterwards.” Mike kissed her tenderly and under- 
standingly. “I was really feeling very selfish and worldly 
and anything but spiritual. I was wondering if your plans 
weren’t too utterly silly, dearest, if, after all, we hadn’t got 
into a rather unreal and unhealthy way of looking at 
things. I was almost convinced that you ought to stop 
standing on your head. Quite suddenly the luminous fig- 
ure, with the sunrays behind its head, stood in front of me. 
Its eyes were fixed on me with a full and wonderful under- 
standing of all that was in my heart. I instantly knew that 
my fears were understood, and the odd thing, now that I 
look back upon it, is that I wasn’t afraid. The under- 
standing seemed natural, the understanding of my higher 
self. It was only when the vision grew dimmer and dim- 
mer that I began to feel this silly nerve-exhaustion ; it was 
only then that I began to wonder and doubt.” 

“I’m not surprised, Meg — you’re splendid. Any other 
woman would have fainted, I suppose.” 

“No, Mike, they wouldn’t ; once you’ve seen and under- 
stood, it is like being born again, with fresh understand- 
ing, with fresh eyes. There’s nothing more to be afraid 
of than there is in seeing death. I was terrified of death 


148 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


until I saw Uncle Harry die. This is just the same thing. 
Your fear is forgotten, a new understanding possesses you. 
My only wonder is why I have never seen anything of the 
same sort before, and now why, oh why, is it this strange 
figure of Akhnaton.^ Why this King who lived thirteen 
hundred years before we begin to count our centuries? 
I should so love to see Uncle Harry, and it is such a little 
time since he went. Why have I never seen him?” 

“My darling, three thousand years are like the minutes 
spent in boiling an egg when you dabble with eternity. 
There is nothing to choose between Noah and Napoleon; 
Moses and Mohammed are twins in point of years.” 

“I know,” Meg said. “There is nothing so hard for a 
human mind to grasp as the impossibility of grasping the 
meaning of infinity. It can’t shake off ^ts own limitations. 
But all the same, if I was to tell anyone except you, dear- 
est, that I had seen and held a conversation with the spirit 
of a Pharaoh who lived before Moses, what would they 
think? what would they say?” 

“The very few who stand in the Light would not be 
astonished. Those who are still completely earth-tied and 
glory in their ignorance would scoff and call you crazy; 
but would they matter?” 

“There was one thing he told me, Mike, which gives me 
great happiness. He called me Hhe mistress of your hap- 
piness,’ he understood about our love.” 

“That was his favourite name for his wife. He was a 
devoted husband and lover.” 

“Then he really understood ?” 

“What does Aton not understand, beloved?” 

“But this was Akhnaton, Mike. He said, ‘my heart was 
happy in my Queen.’ He said ‘the great Giver of Light is 
none other than the loving father, the tender husband, the 
devoted son, because there is none other than the living 
Aton, whose kingdom is within you. You are Aton and 
Aton is you. He is everything which He has made.’ ” 

“That is exactly it,” Mike said. “You saw the figure of 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


149 


Akhnaton just as people who lived in Syria saw the figure 
of Christ — God’s manifestation of Himself. Of course He 
understood our love and our happiness. His bowels of com- 
passion yearn for His children. He is the spirit of Aton — 
of God — as manifested by Akhnaton.” 

‘‘You are to go, beloved, there is to be no holding you 
back. I have received my commission; it is to buckle on 
your armour. Oh, dearest, even if all this should be the 
fabrication of my own dreams, my brain, it is not self- 
created — it has some purpose, some meaning. God has 
put it there.” 

“Everything has its meaning, Meg, nothing is too small 
to be intentional.” 

“I am to help you by ‘the perfection of my love,’ and 
oh, Mike, it is so imperfect, so pitifully imperfect, so 
pitifully human!” 

“Pitifully, darling? Why not beautifully human?” 

“Because it thinks first of my own wants ; my love makes 
me wish to keep you all to myself, to prevent you going on 
this journey.” 

“The beautiful thing about Akhnaton’s teachings, be- 
loved, is the value of happiness, the beauty of humanity. 
In this capital he gave his people wonderful gardens and 
decorated his public places and temples with the simple 
joys of nature; he encouraged music and art and every- 
thing that could give his people happiness. He desired 
his people to enjoy the world, he wanted them to see it as 
he saw it, a wonderful kingdom, radiating with love. He 
first taught the world that there need be no sickness or 
misery if there was no sin. Light disperses darkness. His 
was the purest and highest religion the world was ever given 
until the mission of Jesus Christ. The rays of Aton first 
symbolized the divinity of God.” 

The voice of Mohammed Ali brought the lovers back to 
the practical things of the hour — a hot bath and the neces- 
sity of dressing and eating a good breakfast. For the 
time being, the opening of the tomb had been forgotten. 


150 THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


Indeed, Meg found it very hard to bring herself into touch 
with all which had been until this morning the absorbing 
topic for days past. 

She had a number of household duties to attend to as 
soon as breakfast was over — putting in order the room for 
the Overseer-General and devising the menu for the day’s 
food. There were to be extra mouths to feed — the pho- 
tographer, the Chief Inspector and a few invited fellow- 
Egyptologists who had been asked for the occasion. It 
was Freddy’s day. 

Before they parted to get ready for breakfast Meg said: 
‘T suppose Freddy will be quite lost to us until the hour 
arrives ! I wonder when we shall be permitted to see inside 
it?” She referred to the tomb. 

‘‘Not to-day,” Mike said. “At least, I don’t expect so. 
Perhaps to-morrow. Anyhow, we shall hear all that Freddy 
has to tell us to-night or at lunch-time.” 

“Poor old Freddy ! I shall be relieved when the thing is 
over, when he can settle down to regular work again. 
There will be lots to do, won’t there?” 

“You look tired,” Mike said. Meg’s eyes were deeply 
shadowed. 

“Do you wonder? I’ve lived three thousand years in half 
an hour. I’ve been born again, so to speak. I really feel 
only half here. Oh, Mike,” she said, impulsively, “I wish 
I knew more ! I should so like to quite believe, to under- 
stand. I can never be the same again, not my careless, 
young, old self.” She sighed. 

“Do you regret it?” 

“No, only I fee] different, not quite so close to earth, 
lonely. I can’t explain. I wonder how Lazarus felt? I 
know I’m alive, dearest, and here with you, but — don’t 
laugh or think me hysterical — in some other way, a way 
I can’t speak about, I feel as if I had been dead and come 
back. I’ve seen what no one else has, I’ve been where 
neither you nor Freddy have been.” 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


151 


^‘With those whose existence is in Hhe hills of the West.’ ” 
‘‘A cold tub will do me good, dearest.” Meg hurried off. 
The sun was pouring its full wonder over the land. The 
mystery of the dawn was as if it had never been. Egypt 
was bathed in light, the fullest light that ever was on land 
or sea. 


CHAPTER XIH 

The great hour had arrived. Margaret and Michael were 
on their way to see the inside of the tomb, which had proved 
to be greater by far in impoiiance and splendour than 
even the Arab soothsayer had predicted. It was, in fact, a 
tomb of unique interest, a tomb whose history was to baffle 
the most expert Egyptologists. Freddy had kept the won- 
der of it a secret from Mike and Margaret. He had told 
them practically nothing. He wished to give them a sur- 
prise. 

It had been inspected and photographed and all the 
necessary formalities had been gone through, and now, 
after an admirably borne period of waiting, Michael and 
Margaret were to be allowed to visit it. 

Freddy was to await their arrival on the actual site, either 
in the tomb itself or outside it. 

As Michael and Margaret hurried through the valley 
and climbed the hill, leading down into the side valley 
which held the tomb, they spoke very little to each other. 
Their hearts were full of an intense excitement. Freddy’s 
silence had prepared them for something unusual. 

The sun was blazing like a furnace in the valley; a hot 
wind was blowing from the Sahara. Meg and Michael 
were too excited to be conscious of their surroundings. 
Their feet took them mechanically to the scene of opera- 
tions. 


152 THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 

The tomb had been photographed before any modem had 
set foot in it. 

Very hot and very excited, they at last arrived at its 
entrance, which was guarded by two important-looking 
Egyptian policemen in modern uniforms. Until Michael 
and Margaret had satisfactorily proved to them that they 
had come to assist Effendi Lampton and that they were 
members of his camp, they were not permitted to go near 
the aperture. 

Their identity being established, they at last began their 
descent down the deep shaft into the tomb. The hot air 
which ascended in puffs from the depths below scorched 
their faces. Meg felt stifled. Still hotter air met them as 
they continued their descent. 

One of the Arab workmen helped Meg by going on in 
front and making himself into a pillar for her to rest 
against when she lost her footing. Her foot slipped and 
stumbled in the soft debris, yet pluckily she always man- 
aged to reach the stately Arab. Each time she reached 
him, she would halt and take a little breath, and with re- 
newed forces she would stumble on a few paces further. 
It was a very undignified proceeding and an exhausting 
one. 

At last they reached the level of the tomb; they could 
safely raise their eyes. As they did so, Meg gave a sharp 
cry of surprise. Never in the world had she imagined such 
a wonderful, wonderful sight. A glitter of gold and white 
and the gleam of precious stones and the brilliant hues of 
vivid enamels, caught her eyes. Freddy was holding an 
electric torch in one hand, while with the other he picked 
up as fast as he could from the ground the bits of camelian 
and turquoise and blue lapis-lazuli which lay scattered at 
his feet. Margaret could see nothing clearly; after the 
darkness, things were all blurred. But she recognized the 
friendly cigarette-boxes; they were there, and Freddy was 
filling them as fast as his one hand would allow him. Thou- 
sands of mummy-beads powdered the floor with bright blue. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 153 

The white walls showed a wealth of colour in their paint- 
ings. 

Freddy was in his white flannels; his modem athletic 
figure seemed oddly incongruous. He looked up as they 
appeared. 

‘^Hallo, Meg! Take care — stay where you are — don’t 
move one step further.” 

He instantly stopped his work and came to their assist- 
ance. 

^‘You can’t walk too softly or be too careful. All these 
things are as brittle as burnt egg-shells — the slightest jar 
may shatter them to atoms.” His voice was full of eager 
happiness. 

‘^Oh, Freddy,” Meg said. ^Tt’s too wonderful 1 I never 
imagined such a scene. You darling!” She hugged his 
arm. 

‘^Wait a bit,” Freddy said. ^‘There’s better things to 
come. I say, Mike, keep your coat close to you — that’s 
right. Now, step like cats.” 

All three became silent as they picked their way gin- 
gerly; their advance required a nicety and precision of 
step which permitted of no talking or examination of the 
scene which enthralled them. 

At last they reached an inner chamber, the actual tomb 
itself. An exclamation of amazement burst from both 
Michael and Margaret simultaneously. It certainly was 
an extraordinary scene which met their gaze. 

^^Good heavens !” Mike said, while Meg caught hold of 
Freddy’s arm. She was afraid lest their loud cry might 
shatter the vision before their eyes. Would it vanish with 
the coming of the light as the figure of Akhnaton had van- 
ished two mornings before.^ 

A queen, dressed as a bride. In all the magnificence of old 
Theban splendour, lay stretched at full length on the floor ; 
her arms were folded across her breast, her face dignified 
by the repose of death, the repose of a Buddha, whose eyes 
have seen beyond. 


154 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


This royal effigy was so magnificent, its colours were so 
untarnished, that light seemed to radiate from the still fig- 
ure. Here the might of royalty had defied time. 

Meg and Mike saw nothing but the bridal figure; they 
had eyes for it alone, its pathos, its dignity. 

Freddy pointed to a coffin which lay near the queen. It 
was empty ; one side of it had been smashed open. A brown 
and shrivelled mummy, a ghastly object, had fallen out. It 
lay quite close to the brilliant effigy. Surely this was the 
skeleton at the feast 

Meg shrank back. In the hot tomb a chill struck her 
heart. This poor brown object was the real queen. Here 
time had triumphed. 

She looked again, while Freddy held the torch nearer. A 
vulture with outstretched wings, the ancient emblem of 
divine protection, cut out of flat gold, sat upon the fore- 
head of the mummy. Its left claw had slipped into the 
empty eye-socket. A row of long white teeth gaped threat- 
eningly up to the roof. The lips had dried and withered 
until they had become as hard as brown leather. Alas for 
human vanity! Those lips had once been a lover’s, those 
lips had once responded to human caresses and desires! 

Meg’s flesh shrank. It was horrible. It was wrong to 
pry upon this pitiful object which centuries had hidden 
from man’s sight, this humiliation of royal power. Noth- 
ing could have illustrated more vividly the mockery and 
the futility of human greatness. The ghastly cheeks, cov- 
ered with something which had once been human flesh, the 
menacing teeth, the embalmed skull, sickened Meg. 

For relief she turned her eyes once more to the sublijne 
effigy, to the waiting bride. Her chamber had been fur- 
nished with the lavish indulgence of an ardent bridegroom. 

Michael was standing by Margaret’s side. Her hand 
caught his; human contact was essential. 

The coffin which had once held the mummy had rested 
on a beautiful wooden trestle, which had been covered with 
a golden canopy. The legs of the trestle had given way. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


155 


probably with the weight of the coffin, for the wood had 
become as brittle and dry as fine egg-shell. With the fall 
the mummied body had rolled out and landed on the 
ground. 

This, Freddy conjectured, was the explanation of the 
apparent desecration of the tomb. 

After they had looked at all that Freddy could show 
them until more work had been accomplished, at the two 
figures which occupied the tomb, the one so abject and dis- 
tressing, the other so magnificent and romantic, and at the 
furniture which appeared to Meg to have been made only 
the day before, in spite of Freddy’s warning that a breath 
of cold air would disperse it before their eyes, he told them 
that ‘Hime was up.” 

Meg’s astonishment had increased with the examination 
of every object — the carved wooden armchair, which ap- 
peared to belong to the best Empire period; the exquisite 
wedding-chest, of lacquer, the blues and greens of its floral 
decorations still daringly brilliant and vivid — they were 
far brighter and more perfect than any decorations which 
a faker of antiquities would dare to perpetrate. 

‘‘But, surely,” she said at last, when they had come to 
the end, “this furniture’s just pure Empire? Look at it, 
Mike.” She pointed to the exquisite armchair, an object 
too beautiful and rare for mere human forms to rest in; 
then she made him examine the couch. A portion of its fine 
cane seating had given way. Had a ghostly form sat on 
it? “I thought the French copied their Empire furniture 
from ancient Greek models.^” she said. ^ 

“Well, if they did, here we have it in all its perfection,” 
Freddy said. “In Egypt you’ll find the originals of more 
than Empire furniture. The thing is, where did the Egyp- 
tians get their models from? None of the Louis’s ever 
gave their Pompadours, nor Napoleon his Josephine, any- 
thing as beautiful as that.” He pointed to the casket. 

“And the very air which keeps us alive will destroy 
these,” said Meg. “It’s odd, the way which things that 


156 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


have existed intact for three thousand years without air 
will be killed by it!” 

^‘Have you any definite ideas about that figure?” Mike 
referred to the mummy. ‘‘Whose is it?” 

“The whole thing is very bewildering. The tomb obvi- 
ously hasn’t been plundered, for nothing of any value is 
missing, and yet, as you can see, some of the gold wrap- 
pings have been torn from the mummy, certain things have 
been defaced on the walls — the tomb is not as it was when 
the body was first laid here.” 

“No,” Mike said. “Obviously not. The entrance has 
been tampered with and those outer walls built ; and look at 
all that debris in the shaft. Yet, as you say, the obvious 
things of intrinsic value have not been removed.” 

Meg pointed to a recess in the wall; it still held the 
canopic jars. Their lids were splendidly formed out of 
head-portraits of the queen. Meg knew their meaning, 
their use; they held the intestines of the dead. The Bibli- 
cal expression, “bowels of compassion,” always came to her 
mind when she looked at canopic jars. These jars had their 
significance. 

A very good significance, too, she thought, for certainly 
our bowels are highly sensitive organs, responding and act- 
ing in complete sympathy with our mental condition. And 
who can say for certain where our compassions are seated, 
our sensibilities and sympathies? Why not, as the Egyp- 
tians thought, in our bowels rather than in our brains? 
“Joseph’s bowels did yearn upon his brother Benjamin.” 

‘^Then you have no idea who the queen was ?” Meg said. 

“Not yet,” Freddy said. “But we shall know. No 
Egyptian could enter into his future abode without his 
name. It was always plainly and repeatedly written on 
the embalmed mummy. His identification was absolutely 
essential.” 

“What a help to Egyptologists 1” Meg said. 

“Probably her name will be written on these golden 
wrappings and on the scarabs, if we find any. Nothing has 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


15*7 


been done yet. This precaution of the ancients, in the mat- 
ter of names, has, as you say, saved us endless work. If 
plunderers haven’t obliterated the name and stolen the 
scarabs and other marks of identification, we generally dis- 
cover who it is.” 

Meg sighed. ‘Ts it just ordinary desert and daylight 
still up above, Freddy? I can’t believe it. We seem to be 
back in the Egypt of the Pharaohs down here.” 

They all looked silently again at the wonderful sight, far 
more wonderful than words can suggest — ^the power of 
Egypt, the mystery of death. 

^‘The soothsayer was quite true,” Meg said. ^^His words 
were more than true.” 

‘Wes,” Freddy said, “more than true. And the odd 
thing is that he said what I thought was a lot of rot about 
a ‘bridal figure,’ its splendour, its brilliance. He visualized 
it almost correctly. He said, too, that there would be great 
trouble for us in the work ; he saw difficulties and errors and 
wrong judgments. Nothing was clear, beyond the bril- 
liance of the figure and the objects. I wonder if he will be 
right in that as well?” 

Michael and Margaret looked at each other. Obviously 
Freddy had been influenced by the accuracy of the vision- 
ary’s predictions. His voice was free from scoffing. He 
owned that it was extraordinary — the manner in which the 
man’s words had come true. Neither Meg nor Michael 
made any remark ; they held their tongues in patience. 

“There is certainly plenty of gold,” Freddy said, “and 
jewels and much fine apparel. I hope we shan’t encounter 
the great difficulty he expects, as regards the historical 
problems and arguments it may open up. He predicts that 
the opinions of the learned Egyptologists will be cast out; 
their judgments will be at fault. What at first will appear 
obvious and clear will not be the lasting truth.” 

“How odd!” Mike said. “Was he very pleased to hear 
of the correctness of his predictions so far?” 

“I haven’t told him.” 


158 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


‘‘Not told him?” 

“No, it’s wiser not. I’ve done my best to keep the as- 
tonishing richness of the tomb from the ears of the natives. 
No one has been inside it but the Chief Inspector and the 
photographer and you two. No words have been spoken — 
you must not talk.” 

Meg’s heart bounded. It was delightful to be one of the 
privileged few, to be trusted and accepted as one of the 
school. She felt like a great explorer who had set foot in 
untravelled country. 

“If we stand here, without moving,” she said; “quite, 
quite still, mayn’t we stay for a little bit longer? I’m so full 
of wonder and amazement, Freddy. I can’t begin to think 
intelligently or see things separately — everything is a 
blurred mass of white and gold and blue and priceless 
objects.” 

“No, Meg, I’m sorry — I can’t let you stay. You see, I 
must take this light with me, and get on with picking up 
those small objects. You’ll see all of them to-night. And 
without the light you would be in total darkness — real 
Egyptian darkness.” 

“That’s the thing that beats me. Freddy, how do you 
solve the problem? — had they electric torches, or were 
these tombs only built for supernatural eyes to enjoy?” 

“They certainly didn’t use flares or torches in tombs, as 
the early Christians did in the Roman catacombs, for there’s 
no trace on the walls of dirt or smoke as there is on the low 
walls of the catacombs. There is absolutely nothing to 
tell us how they lighted these vast buildings up, how they 
even introduced sufficient light to paint them by or to build 
them. Look at the minuteness of these ffgures.” 

“Surely they never built all these wonderful tombs and 
took the trouble to paint them with the brightest colours if 
they were never again to be seen with mortal eyes ? I can’t 
believe it.” 

“So far we don’t know. Perhaps the Ka, the part of a 
man who lived for ever in his eternal home, had super- 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 159 

natural powers of sight. The joys were for him. But how 
did they paint them in the darkness ?” 

^Ts that fact ever alluded to.^” 

‘‘No, the Ka is treated in a perfectly human and nat- 
ural manner. All his pleasures were material ones. It’s 
very odd — ^but we’ll discover the secret yet.” 

“If they had some secret form of wireless telegraphy, 
they may just as well have had some secret means of pro- 
ducing light, don’t you think.? You’ve not discovered their 
wireless code, yet, have you.?” 

“No, that’s still a secret. And they certainly used no 
apparatus for electric light, if they knew of it. There are 
no wires in the tombs.” He laughed. “You know, there 
is a lift in the Forum at Rome; it was used for bringing 
the beasts up to the arena from underground cages. It is 
in use to-day, I believe.” 

“We’ve not discoverd one hundredth part of what they 
had or hadn’t,” Meg said. “They probably used radium 
to cure diseases.” 

“The Etruscans had dentists who knew the use of gold 
for stopping teeth — we know that.” 

“Yes, I’ve seen a skull with gold-stopped teeth in the 
Etruscan Museum at Rome.” 

They had reached the beginning of the steep climb which 
was to take them up to the open desert. Freddy left them 
with the assurance that he would come back to lunch. The 
two policemen were to be responsible for the guarding of 
the tomb. If anything was disturbed, they would be held 
to account. 

When Margaret and Michael at last reached the open 
desert, Meg flung herself down and gazed up into the sky. 
It had never seemed so blue and beautiful before. The 
clear air rushed into her lungs. Oh, the sweetness and the 
dearness of the daylight and the real world! The joy it 
was to press her body close, close to the desert! She put 
her face down to it. Nothing in all her life had ever been 
so reassuring and comforting. 


160 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


Michael was seated beside her. The world was so wide 
and open and bewildering; he felt giddy, stupefied. Sur- 
rounding them was the ever-wonderful light of the desert, 
the yellow sands and, in the distance, the masses of moving 
figures, working like busy insects at the clearing away of 
the tomb-rubbish. Native chants and the noise of picks 
and spades shovelling up the debris broke the stillness. Life 
was just as it had been for the last two months. The desert 
was as it had been before the tribes of Israel followed 
Moses. Down below them, under the golden sand, in the 
dark bowels of the earth, Freddy was still picking up pre- 
cious jewels and packing them into the cigarette-boxes, the 
effigy of the royal bfide still lay in all her Pharaonic splen- 
dour. She was there, underneath them, waiting and waiting 
as she had waited for three thousand years for her heavenly 
bridegroom. And still by her side lay that shrivelled, with- 
ered corpse, the real queen, for whose pride and honour 
the vast underground temple had been built. The brown 
mummy was the thing which mattered, the real owner of 
the costly home. 

Freddy, in his white flannels, with his modern mind, was 
alone with these two forms, alone and shut off from the 
embracing, loving light of the desert. It was not a quar- 
ter of an hour since Meg and he had been there ; now they 
were as far away from the withered mummy and the re- 
splendent bride as though they had travelled across the 
breadth of the world. 

His mind went back to the time before the excavating of 
the tomb was begun, when it had seemed absurd to sup- 
pose that all this splendour lay under their feet. It seemed 
to him now as though the whole of Egypt might be honey- 
combed in this subterranean manner. 

Meg still lay embracing the sun-warmed sand, rejoicing 
in the dazzling sunshine. 

‘Tt makes one feel very humble,” she said at last. ^^So 
utterly, utterl}^ unimportant. It doesn’t seem as if it much 
matters what happens, not even to our love, Mike.” 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


161 


Mike raised his face from his hands. “I know,” he said. 
“It is absolute devastation, nothing more or less. Pm 
shattered, Meg.” 

‘^It seems hardly worth while trying to do anything. 
To-morrow we’ll be like that. It’s so difficult to explain, 
except that it’s just wiped out my eagerness, it’s made 
our own precious happiness seem absurd and hollow, hu- 
man beings ridiculous.” 

‘‘Dearest, I understand, I feel the same,” Mike said. 
“All that down there” — he stuck his stick into the sand — 
“illustrates a bit too plainly the things we want to forget.” 

“It shows us the absurdity of what we think are the 
things that matter. It’s really destructive to anything like 
worldly fame and ambition. Those poor shrunken cheeks, 
those poor leathery lips, those poor, poor diadems and 
j ewels !” 

Mike let her ramble on. It was good for her to give ut- 
terance to her incoherent thoughts. 

“They are so different when you see them in a museum,” 
she said. “They’re impersonal there. They don’t hurt 
one’s self-importance.” 

“In Cairo they belong to a number and a glass case,” 
Mike said. “They lose their individuality.” 

“Here they are a part of Egypt, that ancient, undying 
Egypt! You and I, like those dogs, Mike, won’t have even 
bones to record us after three hundred years. Our bowels 
of tenderness will not lie intact in alabaster jars! Oh, 
Mike, take me in your arms ! I want humanity, I want the 
things of to-day, I want all which that mummy has ridi- 
culed! I hated it, Mike! I love life and your love! I 
want to forget that we are here to-day and gone to-morrow, 
mere human gnats.” 

Mike held her close to his heart. Meg could hear it 
beating. Oh, beloved humanity! Oh, dear human flesh 
and blood ! 

“That’s lovely, Mike — ^that’s you and me! That’s our 
certain human love, our happiness ! It is worth while, and 


11 


162 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


it’s not going to be like the running out of an hour-glass 
while an egg is boiling! It’s going to last for ages and 
ages, isn’t it? Say it is, Mike!” 

‘‘Yes, beloved.” Mike kissed her hands. 

She drew them away. “Don’t kiss them, Mike. I feel 
as if they will be dried skeletons by to-morrow, and as if 
your lips, dearest, will have shrunk and shrunk right back 
until your teeth gape out of your hideous brown skull up to 
the blue above. Do you wonder that Akhnaton prayed so 
ardently that his spirit might come out and see the sun?” 

Meg’s head was buried in her hands. She was visualiz- 
ing again the wonderful scene, which had taught her the 
mockery of all things which had formerly appeared so 
precious and important. It seemed to her at the moment 
that to sit down in the desert under the blue sky, and there 
wait for death, was the only thing to do. Nothing really 
mattered. Eternity enthralled her. Her happiness with 
Mike was but the swift hurrying of a white cloud across a 
summer sky, the work of the Exploration School a mere il- 
lustration of worldly vanity. In the great chaos which 
possessed her soul there was no light to comfort her. In 
looking into the past she had unexpectedly seen into the 
future. She had beheld the scorn and callousness of eter- 
nity. 

Oddly enough, it was Michael who helped her to pull 
herself together and turn her thoughts to practical things, 
to the needs of the day. His more mystical nature, his 
familiarity with the mythology of Egypt and other occult 
subjects, had in a measure prepared his mind for the things 
which had burst suddenly upon Meg’s practical nature. He 
had been subconsciously prepared for the tomb to be one 
of unusual importance. The soothsayer’s prediction had 
not been mere charlatanry to him. His secret thoughts 
were so constantly focussed on what is termed the super- 
human, that Meg’s wonder and horror formed only a minor 
part of his emotions. 

A thousand thoughts had flashed through his mind when 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


163 


he first saw the amazing display of jew^els and faience and 
gold, the resplendent queen, whose royal magnificence had 
mocked at time. The inexhaustible wealth of buried Egypt 
forced before his eyes the treasure of gold of which Akhna- 
ton had spoken, that imperial wealth which he had buried 
behind the hills of his fair capital. He felt convinced 
that it was there; he felt convinced that his friend in el- 
Azhar had seen it, just as the Arab soothsayer had seen the 
royal effigy dressed as a bride. 

Mike had little conversation even for Meg. His mind 
was harassed and absorbed. The fresh impetus which he 
had received was pounding like a sledge-hammer at his nat- 
ural and supernatural forces. His natural self was the 
devil’s advocate, and a very able one. It argued against 
the super-instincts which led him to the treasure. It made 
him practical. It made him, as Freddy would have de- 
clared, ‘‘sanely critical of the insane.” It admitted the ap- 
parent folly of the thing into which he was drifting. 

He pulled Meg up from her seat on the sand. He real- 
ized that her domestic duties were what her nerves heeded ; 
they had lately been greatly taxed, first by her vision of 
Akhnaton and now by the excitement of their entry into the 
tomb.^ 

A lover’s kisses and strong human arms had done much 
for Meg. She had a horror of hysterical females. She 
pulled herself together and determined to be practical. 

^ The description of the interior of this tomb is taken from various 
reliable accounts of the interior of the tomb of Thiy. As Queen Thiy 
was the mother of Akhnaton, her tomb must have been discovered 
before the events described in this story, otherwise they could not have 
known that Akhnaton’s mummy had been found in his mother’s tomb. 

When the tomb was first examined, the mummy which had fallen 
out of the coffin was supposed to be that of Queen Thiy. The light 
of after-events and of scientific research have proved that the mummy 
was that of a young man of about twenty-five years of age. The 
conclusion is that Akhnaton’s body was brought from his original 
burying-place near his “City of the Horizon,” and placed in his 
mother’s tomb in the Western Hills. 

Tne name of Akhnaton had been erased from the coffin, but it was 
still readable on the gold ribbons which encircled the body. 


164 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


Only a few moments before she had felt an almost uncon- 
trollable desire to burst into tears. How thankful she was 
that Mike had saved her from the humiliation ! 

But how in the world was she going to bring herself back 
to the paltry things of every day ? How was she ever again 
going to feel that life was real and actual? 

She entered the hut with unwilling feet and troubled 
mind; for some unaccountable reason its atmosphere de- 
pressed her; she wished to avoid it — she felt a curious ap- 
prehension of bad news or of coming evil. At the same 
time, practical work would be beneficial. 

As they came in together, Mohammed Ali greeted Mich- 
ael with the news that “One lady and one gentleman has 
come, very long time they wait. Lady she stays inside, 
gentleman he go up the valley.” 

Instantly life was real again, and Meg a living, angry 
woman. “She” who stayed inside could only mean Mrs. 
Mervill. The tomb was forgotten, as was the royal bride. 
They belonged to the past ; the present was all-engrossing. 

The present hour was the living reality and Michael, her 
lover, and her own love were the things that mattered, the 
woman in the hut the one brilliant vision. Life was vital, 
urgent. A gnat’s life would be long enough if it was to be 
passed with the woman whom she knew, in the coming 
struggle, would fight with tools which she, Meg, would not 
dare or deign to touch. As vivid as her vision of the tomb 
was her memory of Millicent Mervill’s beauty. She could 
see it illuminating their desert hut; she could feel it eclips- 
ing her own less vivid colouring as the sun had eclipsed 
the rays of Akhnaton. 

Mike looked at her. Meg’s cheeks were pale, her eyes 
deeply shadowed. He hated the woman inside the tent. 
What had she come for? 

A silent kiss separated them. With the kiss Meg’s heart 
took courage. It left no room for fear. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


165 


CHAPTER XIV 

When Michael entered the sitting-room of the hut, Milli- 
cent Mervill was reading one of Freddy’s French novels. 
There had been plenty of time for her to powder herself 
and cool down and settle to her liking her dainty person. 
She looked as fresh and cool and pink as a bough of apple- 
blossom. 

She greeted Michael with a chaining mixture of friend- 
liness and discretion. She had brought a friend up the 
valley, to see all that tourists had to see. He had been put 
into her hands by a letter of introduction from friends in 
America. They had seen all that her health would allow 
her to see, on such a hot day. She had noticed their camp 
in passing up the valley and could not resist visiting it on 
her way back. Might she ask for an hour’s rest from the 
sun.f^ Her friend was going to call back for her on the 
return journey. 

knew you wouldn’t mind,” she said. ‘^And Pm not 
going to stop your work, or bother you.” 

“I’m not busy,” Michael said — “at least, not for the 
moment.” His eyes avoided Millicent’s, which seemed to 
him bluer than usual ; but his voice was less cold. His first 
greeting had been curt and almost impatient. Millicent 
was evidently wiser and less difficult; she was the same 
Millicent who had behaved so delightfully at the Pyramids. 
When she was like that he was glad to be nice to her ; he was 
almost pleased to see her. 

As their conversation continued — it was mostly about the 
tomb and its great importance — a subconscious thought 
that she had come to the hut for some reason which she was 
not divulging forced itself more and more strongly on 
Michael. He became convinced of it; she seemed so un- 
usually contented and satisfied with the plan of confining 


166 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


her visit to a short rest in the hut and their conversation 
to ‘^the things of Egyptology,” that even Michael was 
suspicious. She was douce comme un lapin hlanCy^^ as she 
expressed it to herself later on. Her usual insistence had 
vanished. She treated Michael as a friend, with the proper 
touch of intimacy. This was when they were alone. 

When Margaret came into the room, she hardened. Nat- 
urally Margaret invited her to stay for lunch. She was 
Michael’s friend. 

‘Tt is always a very light meal with us,” she said. ‘^But 
such as it is, you are welcome to share it.” 

‘‘Freddy likes his proper meal at night,” Michael said. 

“Thanks ever so much,” Millicent said; she had noticed 
the coldness of Margaret’s voice. “I’d love to stay — that’s 
to say, if it won’t really be giving you any trouble — you’re 
looking fagged.” She turned to Michael. “What have 
you been doing with her.?” Millicent spoke as if she really 
cared. “You’re too young for such tired eyes, for these 
lines,” she touched Meg’s eyes and pulled open the corners. 
Meg’s shrinking gave her satisfaction. “Don’t let Egypt 
ruin your looks, my dear — a woman is only half a woman 
when her beauty fades; she’s only a woman in the eyes of 
one half of mankind while it lasts.” 

“Do you think so.?” Meg said. “I dare say you’re right, 
but when one is quite young one never stops to consider 
these things. As you get older, I suppose you do.” 

The hit went home ; the girl had claws. 

“We are only as young as we look, are we not.? These 
few weeks have ragged you to pieces.” 

“I don’t mind,” said Meg. “It’s been well worth it. 
You may as well get ten years into ten weeks as ten weeks 
into ten years. I’ve been gobbling up life, years and years 
of new experiences and sensations in these last few weeks.” 
Meg meant no more than her words would have conveyed 
to any sweet-minded woman, but Millicent Mervill put her 
own interpretation on them. Margaret was no mean fenc- 
er; she could hit back as well as parry strokes. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


167 


“You’ve certainly said good-bye to conventions, my dear. 
I admire you for taking your life into your own hands.” 
The blue eyes searched Margaret’s; they spoke of a hun- 
dred things which made Margaret long to throw the tumbler 
which she was placing on the table at her golden head. 
Margaret was neither ignorant nor a fool; Millicent’s eyes 
explained her meaning. 

“One has to say good-bye to conventions in the desert — 
nothing can be too simple here. That’s why Western fash- 
ions look so grotesque, our ideas of becoming garments so 
ludicrous.” 

Meg had ignored the innuendoes. Her eyes rested on 
Millicent’s absurd shoes and fashionably-cut white serge 
coat and skirt — a charming suit, but out of place in the 
hut. 

“Is your brother still here Millicent asked the question 
with a beautiful insouciance. She was perfectly well aware 
that he was personally superintending the excavation of 
the tomb. Her words were meant to annoy. 

“Here.?” Meg said. “In the hut at this moment, do you 
mean.? No — he is busy.” Meg’s eyes flashed with anger. 

Michael was silently enjoying the battle of words and 
eyes which was taking place between the two women. The 
very atmosphere was charged with antagonism. He was de- 
lighted to find that Margaret held her own. 

“No — I meant, is he still in the valley, or are you two 
alone here .? How deliciously romantic !” Millicent sighed. 
The sigh was more suggestive than her words. 

“My brother is in the tomb at this moment,” Meg said. 
“You seem to have very extraordinary ideas of the ways of 
excavators” — she had flushed to the roots of her hair — 
“of the behaviour of ordinary English people.” 

“What was the desert made for, but freedom, my dear.? 
If one can’t live in this valley as one wants to, where can 
one, I should like to know.?” 

“We are living as we like,” Meg said. ^Wour ideas of 
freedom may not be mine. Our interests lie apart — our 


168 THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 

ideas of enjoyment are, as far as I can understand, poles 
apart.” 

‘‘A foolish waste of time, my dear, that’s all I can say. 
May I smoke?” 

Michael handed her a box of cigarettes; he noticed the 
exquisite refinement of her hands as she picked out a cigar- 
ette, her brightly-polished nails. ‘‘Thanks, dear,” she said, 
as she lit the cigarette from the match which he held out 
to her — ^the “dear” was for Meg’s benefit; for as their 
eyes met hers were full of genuine fun and mischief. 

“I must tease her,” she said, in a low whisper; Meg had 
gone to the end of the room. “I love shocking those dark 
eyes — I enjoy making her hate me. It’s only fun.” 

Meg’s heart was beating. How dared she call Michael 
“dear”? How dared she intrude herself uninvited upon 
their simple life? Her beauty, her foolish feminine clothes, 
angered her. She hated Millicent’s fine skin, which was, 
even in the desert heat, as poreless as a baby’s. It was a 
wonderful skin for a grown person, let alone for a woman 
of Millicent Mervill’s age. Meg thought of the dried mum- 
my’s lips. One day that pure soft flesh, which held the 
tints of a field daisy, would be more revolting to look at 
if it were unearthed than the skin of the three-thousand- 
year-old queen. If Meg had possessed a wishing-ring, it 
would not have taken long to effect the inevitable change. 
The impudence of the woman maddened her. She knew 
that she could not, even if she had wished to, behave as she 
did. Millicent did exactly as she liked, as the impulse of 
the minute suggested. 

Meg wondered how she had passed the time while they 
were at the tomb. Had she examined any private object 
in the hut? Had she interviewed the servants? She was 
quite capable of doing it. 

She heard her whisper to Mike. Her own sensitiveness 
now drove her out of the hut; if she wished to speak in 
whispers, let them speak. She stood sullenly outside the 
door. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


169 


Why did not some strong man strangle women like Milli- 
cent Mervill? Why had not she herself the courage to tell 
her what she thought of her? Probably Millicent would 
only smile and show her perfect teeth — they always made 
Meg furious, because they were even better than her own, 
and hers were, so she thought, her strongest asset — and 
say, ‘^Poor girl ! You are a little overtired” ; or she would 
say, ^‘You have so much to make you happy, dear, and I 
have so little. Don’t be unkind — I only long for sym- 
pathy.” 

Millicent’s moments of self-pity were mean and con- 
temptible and yet they were effective. 

The only thing to do was to leave the two alone, to trust 
Michael and go about her business. 

Presently she heard Michael say: ‘Well, I’ll leave you 
to rest until lunch-time — I can’t idle while Freddy is 
working like a nigger. You’ll be all right, I know, with 
your book and a cigarette.” 

Margaret slipped round to the back of the hut ; she did 
not want to speak to Michael ; she was thankful that he had 
left Mrs. Mervill, but his voice had been too kind, too nice. 
Meg did not know what she would have liked him to do, 
what he could have done otherwise. She only knew that 
the niceness of his voice annoyed her. 

When the overseer’s whistle for the workmen to “down 
picks and spades” sounded and the time was ripe for 
Freddy to appear, Margaret sauntered off to meet him. 
When she saw him coming she hurried towards him. How 
she loved him! 

When they met she said, “That cat Mrs. Mervill is here. 
Oh, Freddy, I hate her!” 

Freddy laughed. Millicent Mervill, with her extreme 
modernity and virile passions, was so far removed from the 
thought of the tomb, from the brown mummy, whose golden 
ribbons he had been examining; his sister’s annoyance was 
so utterly unlike her mood of the earlier morning ! He had 
never seen Meg so moved as she had been in the tomb. He 


170 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


felt a little relieved that a very human and irritating in- 
fluence had suddenly thrust itself across her path. Meg 
was getting too enthralled in Egypt. These thoughts 
flashed through his mind. 

“Good old Meg,” he said tenderly. “The fighting 
Lampton’s roused, is it?^^ 

“Yes,” Meg said. “I am roused. She’s so insolent, 
Freddy.” 

“What.^” he said, stopping her before she got further. 
“Insolent.'^ to whom.^” 

“To . . .” Meg hesitated. “To life,” she said abruptly. 
“She says things that I could hit her for saying. Freddy, 
do squash her! — she suggests something nasty with every 
word she utters.” 

“I’ll try and flirt with her — won’t that do.?” 

“No, don’t, Freddy!” Fear clutched at Meg’s heart; 
the woman in her trembled for her brother. Millicent was 
so fair, so tempting ; Freddy was young and, Meg thought, 
ignorant of the wiles of women. 

“You’d rather I did than Mike.?” Freddy’s eyes laughed 
as he watched the blush rise to his sister’s cheeks. It made 
her extraordinarily attractive — indeed, fighting seemed to 
suit Meg. He pinched her arm ; they were close pals, tried 
chums. “I know your secret, Meg — I’ve had eyes 
other things than the tomb !” 

“Do you mind, Freddy.?” Meg slipped her arm through 
her brother’s ; her eyes shone with happiness. 

Freddy pressed her arm close to his side. Meg loved him 
for it. “If I’d minded I shouldn’t have let things go so 
far, should I.? I could have packed you off home.” 

“You’ve been a darling, Freddy, and I’m so happy ! I 
never knew anything could be so perfect. I sound silly, 
don’t I.?” 

“No. Mike’s one of the very best, Meg. But you’ll 
have to look after him a bit.” Freddy’s voice was graver. 

“How do you mean, Freddy.?” Meg at once thought of 
Mrs. Mervill. Freddy read her thoughts in her voice. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


in 


“I don’t mean in that way — rather not ! He’s as straight 
as a die. I mean, you’ll have to help him to walk on his 
two legs, Meg — stop him standing on his head, make him 
practical.” 

“I love him for it, Freddy.” 

^‘But it doesn’t pay. We’re of this world and we’ve got 
to live in this world. Mike’s always trying to get beyond 
it, to get into touch with the other side. It’s no good 
meddling with that sort of thing, it always has a disastrous 
effect on the human mind and human happiness, which 
proves' to me that we’re not intended to know or to get in 
touch with those who have left us. It’s unwise to give up 
one’s thoughts to the supernatural.” 

“Perhaps it is,” Meg said, “but why should we be con- 
tented to stand still about all that sort of thing, while we 
leap ahead in science and material progress and everything 
else.^ Mike thinks the true understanding is coming, the 
darkness we have lived in is passing away.” 

“He may be right,” Freddy said. “But for your hap- 
piness, Meg, I wish he’d chuck it. The ‘sublime truth’ of 
‘spiritualism’ he talks about, and the ‘God-ruled world- 
state’ — the one’s dangerous to his bodily welfare, the other’s 
the Utopian dream of failures. I don’t want you to marry 
a failure, old girl. I want you to have the sort of life 
you’re fitted for.” 

“People must be what they are, Freddy, and failure isn’t 
a failure if it’s done its bit. Rome wasn’t built in a day, 
or the union of Italy achieved without broken hearts — 
modern Italy had its failures, its Utopian dreamers, long 
before Garibaldi’s triumphant thousand marched into 
Rome.” 

“That’s true, only one never wants a failure to be a 
member of one’s own family. I don’t want a dreamer for 
a brother-in-law, Meg — not for your husband.” 

“The Lamptons always want to come in with the victori- 
ous legions,” Meg said. They were nearing the hut. “It 


172 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


seems as if the real victors in life were what we call the 
failures, the pioneers of truth.” 

“Fm awfully glad, anyway, Meg. Mike’s a lucky chap 
and you’re a lucky girl. You know, I think the world of 
Mike !” 

‘‘We aren’t engaged, Freddy.” 

“Oh, aren’t you ?” He looked at her with laughing eyes. 
“What do you call it, then? An understanding? Or are 
you just ‘walking out’ like ’Arry and ’Arriet?” 

Meg laughed happily. “We love each other — we’ve not 
got beyond that yet. I suppose we’re just ‘walking out.’ ” 

“You’ve told each other about the loving?” Freddy’s 
kindness was bringing something like tears to Margaret’s 
eyes. 

“Yes. Michael didn’t mean to — it . . .” she paused. 

“Oh, I know! The usual thing. Things seem to be 
gcSng on all right.” He laughed. “It mustn’t run too 
smoothly.” 

“Don’t laugh, Freddy. Michael thought you would 
think it cheek — he won’t allow me to consider myself bound 
to him.” She laughed deliciously. “The dear boy wants 
me to feel free to change my mind, because he’s ‘a drifter,’ 
because he thinks he isn’t a good enough match for your 
sister. Your sister, Freddy, comes right above mere Meg.” 

“I see,” Freddy said. “Then I’m. not to speak about it 
yet, am I? Just tell me what you want and I’ll do it.” 

“Not yet, Freddy — not while that odious woman Is here, 
at any rate.” 

“All right. I’ll wait. Only I’d rather like to see her face 
when I congratulate Mike.” 

“Ought you to congratulate Mike? I’m your sister — 
Isn’t it the other way on? Shouldn’t you congratulate me?” 

They were close to the door of the hut ; Meg lingered. 

“He’s the luckiest man I know. I wish he had a sister 
just like you. Of course he’s to be congratulated ! And 
now I must go and make myself beautiful.” His eyes 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 173 

smiled their brightest. ‘T bet you I could cut Mike out 
with the fair Millicent if I set my mind to it.” 

In the sunlight Freddy looked irresistible, with his violet 
eyes, shaded by his thick lashes, his crisp hair, as sunny and 
as fair as a boy’s. Meg knew that he was a much better- 
looking man than Mike — indeed, he would have been too 
good-looking if his figure had not been all that it was, if 
there had been the slightest touch of the feminine about 
him. There was not. Yet in spite of his good looks and 
astonishing colouring, Meg was right in her consciousness 
that for women there was more magnetic attraction in 
Mike’s mobile plainness, in his sensitive, irregular features. 
When the two men were talking together, the senses and 
eyes of women would be drawn to the plain man. 

During lunch Millicent Mervill was very good. She was 
interested in hearing about the tomb and, Freddy thought, 
wonderfully intelligent upon the subject. She was, as he 
expressed it, as clever as a monkey. What little knowledge 
she had she used to the utmost advantage, to its extreme 
limit. All her intellectual goods she displayed in her shop 
window. She had a telling way of saying, ‘T am com- 
pletely ignorant upon this or that subject,” suggestive of 
the fact that she really did know a great deal about many 
other things. She seldom ‘^gave herself away.” 

Freddy came to the conclusion that she was so quick that 
it was quite impossible to discover what she really did or did 
not know or grasp, and, as he said to Mike afterwards, 
‘^What she did not know, she will set about knowing when 
she gets home. That brain won’t rest still under ignorance, 
or let Meg know what it doesn’t know.” 

The description of the fine effigy of the queen thrilled 
her; her appetite for details was insatiable. There was 
plenty to talk about, so conversation did not flag and per- 
sonal topics were avoided. 

Freddy thought that she was nicer than she had ever been 
before and even prettier. He enjoyed his lunch; it cer- 
tainly was a change to have a beautiful woman, who was 


174 ^ 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


not his sister, and who did her best to make herself attrac- 
tive, lunching with them in their desert home. After his 
tremendous efforts of the last three or four days her pres- 
ence was pleasing. Even the modern clothes and aggres- 
sively-manicured finger-nails gave him healthy sensations. 
His manhood enjoyed her super-femininity. 

The little room palpitated with life, the antagonism of 
the two women was a thing he could feel. He felt it as 
surely as he had felt the hot air of the tomb. Freddy en- 
joyed looking at his sister; her combative mood vitalized 
her. 

Her dark hair, so soft and abundant, looked tempting to 
touch, after the dragged and matted ‘‘something” which 
clung to the skull of the mummy. 

Nothing in the room was intrinsically worth a couple of 
shillings. The seat on which Michael was sitting had been 
made out of empty boxes; they had been converted into a 
very presentable armchair by the ingenuity of Mohammed 
Ali. Yet the atmosphere of the hut was human and domes- 
ticated, the two women sweet and fragrant. 

And so it was not difficult for Freddy to respond to his 
fair guest’s pleasant chatter. She made him laugh heartily 
more than once, and he was ready for a good laugh. He 
was braced by her quick wit and humorous way of looking 
at things. 

Meg was doing her best to appear happy ; she was really 
getting angrier and angrier every minute with the woman 
who was so thoroughly enjoying herself; angry because 
Freddy, like all other men, was being deceived by her, 
because he was obviously thinking her very excellent com- 
pany — which she was. He was no doubt already wondering 
why she, Meg, hated her so whole-heartedly. Freddy had 
seldom mentioned Millicent to his sister ; he had kept his own 
counsel. The Lamptons were silent men, whose apprecia- 
tion of women like Millicent never led them astray in the 
choosing of their wives. 

Michael had given Millicent his first vivid impressions of 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


175 


the tomb in a very ^^Mik-ish’’ manner. He described 
Freddy, strikingly distinguishable in his white flannels, 
greedily picking up j ewels and gold and bits of blue faience 
and stowing them away into boxes by the light of an elec- 
tric torch. 

‘^A tomb burglar if ever you saw one ! I shall never 
forget the sight.” 

‘‘There’s lots of work for you, Meg, to-night,” Freddy 
said. “There’s an awful lot of things to sort and clean — 
beautiful things.” 

“How exciting!” Millicent said. “Can you keep any of 
the small things.? They’d stick to my fingers, I feel sure.” 

“No,” Freddy said. “Not unless you are a thief. They 
aren’t ours — I’m only entrusted with the finding of them.” 

Millicent made a face of dissatisfaction, as she felt for 
something which she wore fastened to the long gold chain 
which was hanging from her neck. 

“I wonder if you will pronounce this genuine or a fake.? 
Do you remember, Mike, our buying it.?” She ran her 
fingers along the chain. The genuine antique or fake was 
not on it ; it was missing. She felt again. No ; there was 
nothing on the chain. 

“Oh, I’ve lost it 1” she said. “My precious eye of Horus, 
Mike. I wouldn’t have lost it for the world!” Her tone 
conveyed his understanding of the personal value which she 
attached to the amulet. 

“What was it.?” Freddy said. “Can’t we get another.? 
If you bought it, it was probably a fake.” 

“A new one would never be the same — Mike gave me the 
one I’ve lost” — $he purposely used Michael’s intimate name 
— “while we were staying at Luxor. It has been my 
‘heaven-sent gift’ ” — (the ancients’ name for the amulet, 
which represented the right eye of Horus). 

They all looked to see if the amulet had been dropped in 
the room, if it was under the table. But it was nowhere to 
be found ; the eye of Horus was concealing itself. 

“It was probably only a fake,” Freddy said, “if you 


176 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


bought it in Luxor. I’ll try and get a genuine one for you 
— for ages and ages they were the commonest of all amulets, 
judging by the number we find. Almost every ancient 
Egyptian must have worn one. It was the all-seeing eye, 
the protecting light.” 

“The moon was the left eye of Horus and the sun was the 
right — isn’t that so.^” Millicent asked. 

“Roughly speaking, but the eye of Horus is a compli- 
cated subject. It’s not just the evil or good eye of Italy, 
by any means. The eye of Horus is the eye of Heaven, 
Shakespeare’s ‘Heaven’s eye,’ but it’s when it gets identified 
with Ra that the complication comes in. The sacred eye is 
the eye of Heaven, or Ra. Poets, ancient and modern, have 
sung of it, from the time of Job to the days of Shake- 
speare. But there was also the evil eye, the one we hear so 
much about in Southern Italy.” 

“Tell me about that. I always like the naughty stories. 
I’ve never grown up in that respect. The evil eye is more 
interesting to me than the eye of Heaven. I knew a woman 
in Italy who was ‘selling lace; she let a friend of mine buy 
all she wanted from her at the most absurdly cheap prices 
you can imagine. When the lady of the house we were 
staying in, who had allowed the woman to call and bring 
her lace, asked her why she had sold the lace to a stranger 
at a price for which she had refused to part with it to her, 
she simply threw up her eyes and said, Signora, what 
could I do ? She had the evil eye — if I had not given it to her 
what terrible misfortunes she could have brought to me !’ ” 

“I remember seeing a crowded tramcar in Rome empty 
itself in a moment when a well-known Prince, who was sup- 
posed to have the evil eye, got into it,” Michael said. 

“A common expression for a woman in ancient Egypt 
was stav-ar~han^ which meant ‘she who turns away the evil 
eye,’ ” Freddy said. 

“Then the Egyptians believed in the evil eye, as apart 
from the sacred eye of Ra ?” Millicent said. “What a uni- 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 177 

versal belief it seems to have been! One meets with it all 
over the world.” 

‘^Wasn’t there a book found in the ancient library of the 
temple of Dendereh which told all about the turning away 
of the evil eye ?” Mike asked. 

, believe so,” Freddy said. “But I’ve never seen it.” 

Millicent was still fingering her empty chain. “I feel 
lost without my eye,” she said to Mike, who had answered 
her persistent gaze. “You bought it for me after that long, 
long day we spent together in the desert behind Karnak. 
Do you remember that Coptic convent” — she made a face 
of disgust — “and the amusement of the nuns at my blue 
eyes, and all the dreadful dogs.?^ You bought the eye from 
the old man who looked as if he had lived inside a pyramid 
all his life.” She turned to Margaret. “It was a wonder- 
ful day, and we behaved like children in the desert, didn’t 
we, Mike.^” 

Meg managed to hide her annoyance, but something hurt 
inside her — probably her bowels of wrath. 

“It was a lovely day, I remember. The Coptic convent 
looked like a collection of beehives huddled together in the 
desert. You wouldn’t go inside it because you were afraid of 
the fleas, and I wasn’t allowed to go in because I was a man.” 

“I’d had enough of Coptic churches. Have you ever 
been in the early Christian churches in Cairo. she asked 
Margaret. 

^ “No, but I’ve heard about them.” 

“Well, I have, and all I can say is that if the early Chris- 
tians in Rome were as dirty as the survivors of the Church 
of St. Mark are in Cairo, I don’t wonder at the pagans. I 
wasn’t going to risk the monastery after the appalling 
filth of their churches, dirty pigs 1” 

At that precise moment Mohammed Ali brought in the 
coffee. It was served in the native fashion, in small enam- 
elled glass bowels, on a brass tray. When he handed the 
tray to Mrs. Mervill he pointed to a small object lying 
beside her cup. 

12 


178 ' THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


‘Lady, I find antika all safe.’’ 

Millicent’s heart beat more quickly; a little deeper rose 
warmed her cheeks. She picked up the eye of blue faience 
from the brass tray with well-assumed delight. Margaret’s 
dark eyes were resting on her. She felt them. 

“Thank you,” she said to Mohammed Ali. “I’m so 
glad.” Her hand shook a little as she lifted her cup. 
“Heaven’s eye is not withdrawn,” she said gaily to Michael. 

“Where did you find it, Mohammed.^” Michael asked 
the question innocently. 

Mohammed Ali’s eyes met Mrs. Mervill’s. In them he 
saw the promise of a handsome baksheesh. 

“When lady get off donkey, chain it catch on the saddle.” 

A slight sigh escaped from Millicent’s lips; Mohammed 
w^as worthy of his race. 

“Oh, yes ! How stupid of me not to remember ! I quite 
forgot that my chain caught as I dismounted. I never 
thought of looking to see if I had lost anything.” 

Meg knew that Millicent Mervill was lying and she knew 
that Mohammed knew that she was lying. She also knew 
Mohammed well enough to know that if she chose, she could 
buy him back again from Millicent. Mohammed handled 
the truth very carelessly ; it was still his unshakable policy 
to secure as much money as he could and give as much 
pleasure as he could to the person who gave him the most. 
His Eastern knowledge of human nature told him that 
Margaret would not be likely to seek to buy his secret. He 
might, perhaps, tell her the truth when Mrs. Mervill had 
gone away, because he sincerely liked her, but as far as 
bribery or corruption was concerned, he must rest content 
with what Mrs. Mervill thought a sufficient reward for his 
intelligence and silence. 

Margaret had felt pretty certain that Millicent’s curi- 
osity had not remained contented with the Inspection of the 
public sitting-room. As she w^atched her trembling hand 
and noted the blush on her cheeks, she felt that her sus- 
picions were not unjust. Instinctively her mind flew to her 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


179 


diary ; it was lying on a table in her room. She had kept 
it very faithfully ever since her arrival in the valley. It 
was an intensely intimate, human document. It w^as a record 
of all her impressions and of her life in the valley, and of 
every incident which had happened in relation to her 
friendship with Michael. If Millicent had read any of it, 
she must have seen into her very soul. Margaret’s whole 
being writhed at the thought of the thing. She had taken 
the precaution to write it in French so that she could leave 
the book unlocked in her bed-room. None of the house 
^‘boys” could read French ; Millicent, of course, both spake 
and read it fluently. 

As Meg thought of this, the cruel laying bare of her 
inner woman to the woman she hated, a hot blush dyed her 
cheeks ; she felt giddy. 

Millicent noticed the blush. Her eyes rested upon Meg’s 
until Meg was compelled to raise hers. Then the two 
women looked into each other’s souls. Their unspoken 
thoughts were plainly read by each other. 

It was Millicent who triumphed. No shame made her 
eyes drop; no fear weakened their challenge. They boldly 
said, ‘^You see, I know, I have learnt. You are not all that 
you look. I have discovered the other woman.” 

With extraordinary clearness Margaret visualized Milli- 
cent’s delicate fingers turning over the pages of her diary. 
She could see her eyes gloating over its secret passages. 
She could feel Millicent’s beautiful presence filling her 
plain little bed-room, which would never be the same again. 
Her delicate fragrance which was no stronger than the 
subtle perfume of English wild flowers, was probably 
lingering in it still. Meg felt herself clumsily big and 
masculine beside her, for Millicent never allowed you to 
forget that, above all things, she was a woman, that in her 
companionship with men she was not of the same sex. 

When the eye of Horus was once more, with Freddy’s 
assistance, securely fastened on to the gold chain, and the 


180 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


coffee had been drunk and cigarettes were being indulged 
in, Mrs. MervilPs American friend appeared at the hut. 

He was a very agreeable and cultured man. His chief 
interest in things Egyptian was centred in the subject of 
ancient festivals. When he was smoking with the party, a 
really interesting discussion took place between the three 
men. Mr. Harben, the newcomer, had been particularly 
interested in the “intoxication festivals” held in honour of 
the goddess Hathor at Dendereh. 

Michael naturally had read more upon the subject of the 
festival of Isis. At her festival the “Songs of Isis” were 
sung in the temples of Osiris by two virgins. These festi- 
vals were held for five days at the sowing season every year. 
These “songs of Isis,” of course, related to the destruction 
of Osiris by Set and the eventual reconstruction of his body 
by his wife Isis and her sister goddess Nephthys. In other 
words, it was the festival of the triumph of light over dark- 
ness, the power of righteousness over evil, the oldest of all 
battles. 

During the discussion Millicent Mervill was at her best. 
She was intellectually curious and excitable. The festival 
of Isis bored her; she did not care for or believe in the 
inevitable triumph of light over darkness. With her evil 
flourished like a green bay-tree, while righteousness was its 
own reward — and a very dull one. She was religious — after 
the conventional fashion of the people with whom she con- 
sorted ; she enjoyed going to a church where there was good 
music or an audacious preacher to be heard. But she never 
wanted to be better than she was; her wants were for the 
further satisfaction of her material enjoyments on this 
earth. 

But the Bacchanalian festivals of Hathor had interested 
her and aroused her curiosity, from the very first time that 
she had seen the figures of the dancing-girls, so realistically 
carved on the walls of the temple of Dendereh. She had 
read all that she could lay her hands on relating to the 
subject, which consisted only of such portions of the 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


181 


papyrus as the translators have seen fit to give to the 
general public. Her American friend had gone further. 
He was not only interested in the Bacchanalian dances, but 
in Egyptian festivals generally. 

Both Margaret and Millicent became silent as the dis- 
cussion proceeded and for the time being their animosity 
was forgotten; they found themselves for once sympathetic 
listeners and good companions. Michael was pleased. 

As the discussion gradually soared above their under- 
standing, they talked of things between themselves. 

Time flew pleasantly, so much so that Margaret felt a 
little regret when at last Millicent and her friend said 
good-bye. She had almost forgotten her ugly suspicions 
about Millicent, who had been very charming and simple. 
She wished that she had not spoken so hastily to Freddy 
about her. Her conscience pricked her. 

Later on, as the trio, Michael, Freddy, and Margaret, 
watched their two guests depart, very different thoughts 
filled their minds. Michael was hoping that a new phase in 
the acquaintance between the two women had begun, that 
Meg would now hold out a helping hand of sympathy to 
Millicent. Meg was wondering if Freddy thought that she 
had been unjust and horrid, just because Millicent was 
beautiful and a cleverer woman than herself. Freddy had 
obviously enjoyed her unexpected visit. 

“Your fair friend paid us this honour, Mike, for some 
reason best known to herself,” he said. “Some reason she 
has not divulged. I wonder what it was.^ There is always 
a hidden reason in what she does.” 

“Curiosity,” said Michael, carelessly. “She wanted to 
see how excavators live and to find out for herself what we 
were doing.” 

“I guess so !” Freddy said, significantly. “Find out for 
herself — that was just it.” He laughed. “I wonder 
how much she did find out.'^” Freddy clapped his hand on 
Mike’s shoulder as he spoke. “I didn’t give you away, old 
chap !” 


182 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


Michael faced him squarely. So Freddy knew? 

“Has Meg told you?” His voice was anxious. 

“Told me? Do you suppose I’m blind?” Freddy spoke 
with such frank sympathy and pleasure that from his voice 
more than his words Michael took heart. 

“It’s awful cheek on my part.” 

“Yes, ^awful cheek,’ ” Freddy said. “Considering Meg’s 
just the one and only Meg in the world.” He took Meg’s 
brown hand in his — such a different hand from Millicent’s ! 
— and placed it on the top of Michael’s and held it there. 
“Bless you, my children!” he said. “I feel like a heavy 
father. And I’ve nothing more to say, except that I’m 
jolly glad, and I congratulate you both.” 

Meg’s eyes were shining. Freddy was so boyish and yet 
so much her elder brother. How she loved him ! 

“Thanks, old chap,” Michael said. “I suppose Meg’s 
told you all about it.^^ — I mean, how I’m not going to let 
her bind herself to me? We love each other, and I forgot 
and told her I did.” 

Freddy laughed. “If something better than you, you old 
drifter, turns up, she’s to be free to take him. Of course, 
something will 1” 

“Yes,” Michael said. Or if . . .” he paused. 

“If you prove too unpractical for a husband, you old 
humbug, I’m to cancel the engagement!” 

Meg linked her arm in her brother’s. “I’m quite prac- 
tical enough for us both,” she said. “The Lampton common 
sense wants leavening. We never rise to heights, Freddy 
— we’re solid dough.” 

“We manage to get down into the bowels of the earth, 
which helps a bit, if we can’t soar very high.” 

All three laughed. Freddy meant the tomb, of course. 

Freddy was smoking a cigarette. His eyes were follow- 
ing the two donkeys which were taking Millicent and her 
friend down the valley. They looked like white insects In 
the distance; they had travelled rapidly, as donkeys will 
travel on their homeward journey. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


183 


“The fair Millicent! — and, by Jove, she is fair!” — 
Freddy said, meditatively, “didn’t come here to find out 
your engagement — don’t imagine so. She managed to 
carry away some information more difficult to obtain than 
that.” He laughed and quoted the old saying, “Love, like 
light, cannot be hid. What a pity she isn’t all as nice as 
the nice parts of her, or as nice as she is pretty 1” 

“I always think she looks so nice to eat,” Margaret said. 

“I think she looks so nice to kiss,” Freddy said laugh- 
ingly. “If that American, hadn’t been there, I’d have 
taken her off for a walk, and then I could have told you, 
Mike, what it was like.” 

Meg blushed to the roots of her hair. Her brother’s 
words recalled the ball at Assuan. She kne)V that Michael 
knew what it was like. 

Freddy saw Meg’s blush and wondered what it meant. 
He turned and left the lovers to enjoy a few moments’ 
uninterrupted bliss and to discuss the day’s events. 

Their bliss consisted in standing together, silently watch- 
ing the two figures on the white donkeys disappear into the 
valley below. When the last trace of them had vanished 
and the desert and the sky composed their world, Meg gave 
a sigh of relief. Perfect content was expressed in her atti- 
tude and silence, a long silence, too sacred to be broken 
rashly. The sun was brilliant, the distance before them 
immense, compelling. 

As Meg gazed and gazed, her heart became more and 
more full of happiness. The world was a wonderful 
mother; she had only to trust, to believe, to love, to have 
happiness showered upon her. 

“In a book I was reading the other day, Mike,” she said, 
“the heroine remarked that looking into a great distance 
always made her long to be better than she was. How true 
it is — at least, with me. I knew what she meant, instantly. 
I feel it now, don’t you.'^” 

“That’s why town-life is so bad for us,” he said. “Our 
vision never gets beyond the traffic, beyond the progress of 


184 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


commerce. I’ve often thought the same thing. Distances 
are sublime.” 

“The distances in the desert make me feel far more like 
that than any other distances. The desert has taught me 
so much — it is a wonderful mother.” 

Michael’s eyes answered her. 

“Looking at that distance makes me wish I hadn’t been 
so wicked in my heart about Mrs. Mervill. I was bursting 
with hate of her, Mike — I longed to hurt her as she always 
hurts me!” 

“You behaved splendidly ! I knew it was an awful trial 
to you. You knew I understood, Meg.^” 

“It was a trial,” Meg said, “but why am I so little when 
I am put to the test, and why do I feel so big, so far above 
such contemptible things, when I look at a distance like 
that.f^” 

“Because you’re a darling, human woman, Meg.” 
Michael’s arms went round her. “Because there would be 
no merit in our victories if the battles were quite easy.” 

“I suppose not, but for your belief in me, Mike, I want 
to be as big as the biggest thoughts I’ve got, and I’m only 
as small as my meanest.” 

“You are the mistress of my happiness, Meg.” 

Meg’s eyes shone with understanding, while his words 
called up the figure and the bright rays of Akhnaton. 

“Freddy said that I am to act as a curb on your un- 
practical tendencies, Mike. I felt very deceitful. He 
doesn’t know how much I’ve aided and abetted them.” 

“He never imagined that he’d a practical mystic for a 
sister, did he.?” 

“Never,” Meg said. 

“But that’s what you ^re, dearest — a practical mystic. 
You are a woman with two sides to your nature — ^the in- 
tensely practical and the subconsciously mystic. Egypt 
has developed the mystic half — your Lampton forbears are 
responsible for the other.” 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 185 

^‘The Lampton half of me keeps my two feet firmly 
planted on the earth, Mike.” 

‘‘The mystic half loves this silly drifter.” He pressed 
her to him. 

“The practical half says, come back to the hut and help 
Freddy.” 

And so they went. 


PART II 

CHAPTER I 

Michael’s travels in the Eastern desert had barely ex- 
tended over a three days’ journey by camel and some hours 
spent on the Egyptian State Railway, which runs by the 
banks of the Nile. 

The town of Luxor lies on the right or east bank of the 
Nile, four hundred and fifty miles to the south of Cairo. 
Tel-el-Amarna, or “The City of the Horizon,” Akhnaton’s 
capital, lies about a hundred and sixty miles south of Cairo. 
Michael could very easily have gone almost all the way to 
the modern station of Tel-el-Amarna, or Haggi Kandil, by 
boat or by train from Luxor, which faces the Theban Hills, 
in whose bowels lies the great Theban necropolis, the Valley 
of the Tombs of the Kings, which had been his home for 
some months. But that was not his idea ; he wished to spend 
all his days in the solitude of the desert, so he started his 
journey at a point halfway between Luxor and Tel-el- 
Amarna. 

This was not his first pilgrimage to the Eastern desert. 

Luxor and Assuan both lie on the east bank of the Nile ; 
the great Arabian Desert in Egypt stretches from the Suez 
Canal to Assuan; after Assuan it is called the Nubian 
Desert. The Libyan Desert stretches from Cairo to Assuan, 
but on the western bank of the Nile. Michael’s desire was 
for the uninterrupted ocean of sand which stretches from 


186 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


the shores of the Atlantic to the cliffs which give the Nile 
its sunsets. Its infinity of space drew him to it. 

In the desert, where a traveller begins his day at dawn 
and ends it at sundown, where the slow tread of his camel is 
only interrupted by a short halt for the midday meal, and 
the days roll on and into each other as the sand-dunes roll 
on and into succeeding sand-dunes, the sense of hours and 
days becomes lost. With nothing in front of the eye but 
an infinity of sky and distance and nothing active in that 
distance but dazzling heat, moving over the desert, the mind 
becomes a part of the intense solitude. The traveller’s ego 
is comatized ; he takes his place with the elements. 

When the traveller’s long day’s march is done, the won- 
der of the starlit nights makes his past life seem still more 
unreal. It has been truly said that the solitary contempla- 
tion of the desert stars either for ever convinces a doubter 
of the certainty of a God, or confirms his opinions as an 
Atheist. When Michael was alone with the stars, the Sweet 
Singer of Israel’s words ever rang in his ears : 

‘^When I consider Thy heavens, the work of Thy fingers, 
the moon and the stars, which Thou hast ordained ; 

‘‘What is man, that Thou art mindful of him? and the 
son of man, that Thou visitest him?” 

During the three days spent on camel-back in the desert 
nothing had happened which the world calls happening. 
Michael’s small equipment was proving itself entirely satis- 
factory and sufficient for his needs. His guide and his 
servants were both agreeable and obedient. His head-man 
or guide was none other than the soothsayer who had pre- 
dicted the astonishing wealth of the tomb which Freddy 
had discovered. He had travelled far and wide in the great 
Arabian Desert and he had also helped at the excavations 
at Tel-el-Amarna. 

Although apparently nothing had happened, no events 
which would bear recording in the diary of a practical ex- 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


187 


plorer, yet much had happened which evaded the limitations 
of words. The things which had happened were the great 
things which mattered to Michael’s mind. They had pro- 
duced an extraordinary sense of repose; they had settled 
his nerves and allowed his convictions to steadily develop, 
to emerge from shadowy dreams. If he thought less con- 
stantly of Margaret as the days wore on, it was with more 
satisfaction and confidence. He ceased to blame himself 
for confessing his love; he accepted that also as an act of 
the guiding Hand. 

On the desert march Michael generally went at the head 
of his cavalcade. He liked the wide sweep for the eye, 
the great expanse, undisturbed, even by such picturesque 
figures as the natives on their camels. Over and over again 
he rode for hours in a beautiful dream; he gave himself up 
to the intoxication of immensity. At such times the thought 
would come to him that if he turned the universe upside- 
down, nothing would happen. The high heavens would be 
made of golden sand and the limitless earth of bright blue 
— that would be all the difference; nothing would tumble 
about, for there was nothing to tumble ; nothing would be 
standing on its head, for there was nothing which had a 
head to stand on. God’s world was as it had been before 
the creation of man. 

Since his Hijrah, as Freddy called his flight from the 
valley, he had ceased to think about his own standing on 
his head. Hp had accepted the fact that a man must work 
out his own life as truly as he must work out his own 
salvation. To be a weak copy of Freddy would be con- 
temptible; it would be better to be an out-and-out failure 
and drifter for the rest of his days. As a failure he would 
at least be living the life he best understood, the life which 
to him seemed fuller than the lives lived by successful ma- 
terialists. 

For the whole three days in the desert he had scarcely 
passed a living creature; it was the most desolate journey 
he had ever taken. Some portions of the great desert are 


188 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


much more barren than others, more extraordinarily deso- 
late. The whole thing, of course, depends upon the all-im- 
portant water. One writer’s words explain the matter con- 
cisely — “there are two kinds of desert in Egypt, the desert 
of sand, which is only desert because it is left without water, 
and the desert which is desert because nothing profitable 
will grow there.” 

Probably the country over which Michael had travelled 
belonged to the last type of desert. There had been won- 
derful effects of light and shade and strange changes in 
the colour of the sand and rocks, owing to geological 
reasons. Sometimes such strange effects that he found it 
hard to believe, from a distance, that there were not bright 
carpets or gay flowers spread on the sands. 

To the uninitiated it sounds as if such a journey could 
become dangerously monotonous and boring, and so it 
would to the eye or mind which has not the true desert 
instinct. Michael’s had it. He loved its passionate inten- 
sity of sky and space as a true sailor loves the ocean. He 
loved his “ship of the desert,” which bore him silently over 
the rolling waves of sand, as a Jack Tar loves his ship. He 
loved the stories of the desert which his guide told him at 
night under the southern stars, as an English Jack Tar 
loves his fo’c’sle yams. 

Although nothing ever happened, there was for Michael 
something happening every minute, some fresh beauty 
which revealed a new phase of Nature, some geological 
surprise which changed the colour and atmospheric effect 
of his surroundings. At one time mirage after mirage 
appeared and disappeared like delicate, subtle dreams ; fair 
cities sprang up on the horizon with white-winged sailing- 
boats drifting on their waters ; tall palm-trees, black against 
the light, stood up and refreshed the eye, only to become 
fainter and fainter until they were no more. 

These fair Jerusalems, God’s help to tired travellers, 
with eyes grown weary of emptiness and space, made beau- 
tiful interludes in the day’s march. Since their first day’s 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


189 


march they had seen no real desert villages, with their 
much-treasured palm-trees and picturesque inhabitants, for 
they had made for the open desert. Where palm-trees 
grow, there are also human habitations and Government 
taxes. Anything green in the desert which is of lasting 
duration is the result of artificial irrigation. But if the 
sand brings forth So food for man or beast, its emptiness 
holds a world of prayers and desires. 

It was about noon of the fourth day of Michael’s 
journey when he saw in the distance a cavalcade of camels 
riding towards him. It had emerged out of nothing; 
suddenly it became clearer and clearer. Was it mirage? It 
was still so distant that it might yet prove an optical 
delusion. 

He stopped his camel. Abdul, seeing that his master 
evidently wanted something, rode forward quickly. 

^Xook, Abdul,” Michael said, ^^can you see some camels 
coming towards us.?” 

Abdul had no need to look. His eyes could see much 
further than Michael’s. He had already noticed thje 
cavalcade. 

^ ^^Aiwah, Effendi, they are camels carrying real human 
beings.” His master’s words had implied that he wondered 
if he was looking at a mirage. Michael had never seen a 
mirage of anything but scenery, villages with minarets and 
rivers with boats — reflections, in fact, of distant towns. 

Abdul assured his master that the camels were real camels 
and that he was almost certain that it was an European 
outfit; it did not belong to desert natives. 

Michael again rode on ahead for a few moments. He 
wondered where the travellers were coming from, and 
whither they were bound. This fourth morning’s journey 
had certainly brought them slightly nearer again to the 
border of civilization. He knew that they were skirting 
an ancient oasis. Perhaps the travellers had come from it. 
He was still some distance from Tel-el-Amarna — not the 


190 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


modern Tel-el-Amarna or Haggi Kandil, which lies about 
five miles back from the banks of the river, where passen- 
gers travelling by railway alight when they come from 
Cairo to visit the ruins of the ancient city — but the ruins of 
Akhnaton’s capital. At the point on the Nile where 
Akhnaton chose to build his city, the limestone cliffs go 
back from the river about three miles, returning to it some 
six miles further on. 

Michael’s objective was not the ruins of Akhnaton’s city, 
but the desert and the hills which lie beyond it. The boun- 
daries of the “City of the Horizon,” Akhnaton’s new capi- 
tal, the seat of the heretic King, were so carefully laid 
down and defined by him that there has been no mistaking 
its exact size and circumference. 

Michael was going to the original tomb of Akhnaton, 
cut out of the hills which formed a half-crescent round the 
city, like a bay, reaching back from the river. In these 
encircling hills the King’s body was buried; the hills were 
his chosen resting-place. 

“Here Akhnaton elected to be buried, where hyenas 
prowled and jackals wandered, and where the desolate cry 
of the night-owls echoed over the rocks. In winter the 
wind sweeps up the valley and howls round the rocks; in 
summer the sun makes it a veritable furnace, unendurable 
to man. There is nothing here to remind one of the God 
Who watches over him, and the tender Aton of the Pha- 
raoh’s conception would seem to have abandoned this place 
to the spirits of evil. There are no flowers where Akhnaton 
cut his sepulchre, and no birds sing; for the King believed 
that his soul, caught up into the noon of Paradise, would 
need no more delights on earth. 

“The tomb consisted of a passage descending into the 
hill and leading to a rock-cut hall, the roof of which was 
supported by four columns. Here stood the sarcophagus 
of pink granite in which the Pharaoh’s mummy would lie. 
The walls of this hall were covered with scenes carved in 
plaster, representing various phases in the Aton worship. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


191 


From the passage there led another small chamber, beyond 
which a further passage was cut, perhaps to lead to the 
second hall in which the Queen should be buried, but the 
work was never finished.”^ 

Later on, for political and religious reasons, this mummy 
was disentombed, taken up the river to the western desert 
and placed in his mother’s splendid tomb in the Valley of 
the Tombs of the Kings. It was in these same hills that 
Michael believed the King to have concealed his treasure. 

The treasure was Michael’s practical objective. To 
others the idea might seem absurd and unpractical ; to him 
it was quite possible and practical. He could not have been 
more businesslike in his marching and halts if he had been 
a general taking his troops across the desert to relieve a 
beleaguered city. It was a part of his nature to be prac- 
tical about the unpractical. The words of his old friend in 
el-Azhar often came back to him as his carr.el bore him 
through a spell of light, or as he listened to the thundering 
silence of the Arabian desert. He recalled his counsel, to 
journey undoubtingly, to follow in the steps of a ^^child of 
God,” who would lead him to the treasure which no eyes 
had seen for countless centuries. 

So far no child of God had crossed his path. From 
dawn until dusk he had seen nothing living or moving but 
one pale lizard, almost colourless as the rocks from which it 
had come; it had scurried across his path, the sole in- 
habitant of the untrodden sands, alarmed at the invasion 
of its kingdom. 

These thoughts Were passing through his mind as his 
camel bore him nearer and nearer to the cavalcade which 
was coming towards him. The unexpected sight of travel- 
lers had raised a whirlwind of new doubts in his brain and 
called up undesired visions before his eyes. For the last 
three days nothing had disturbed the divine calm of his 
desert surroundings. He had contentedly become a part 

^Weigall’s Akhnaton, Pharaoh of Egypt. 


192 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


of his camel; its somnolent tread had lulled his senses like 
the gentle movement of an ocean steamer on the high seas. 

As the two cavalcades drew nearer to each other, Abdul 
pressed forward to his master’s side. His long sight, well 
used to desert distances, had clearly discerned what to 
Michael was still indistinct, blurred by the sun. 

‘‘One lady in party, Effendi.” 

Michael showed surprise. It was an extremely unlikely 
place to meet a lady on camel-back; there were no tourists 
in that part of the desert, so far back from the Nile; it was 
not a likely place to meet an European pleasure-party. 
Michael knew that Abdul had meant an European lady 
when he spoke of “one lady” being in the party ; he would 
not have mentioned the fact if it had been only a Bedouin 
Arab woman moving her home to some more desirable spot. 
Perhaps it was some excavation-party. A number of Euro- 
pean women, he knew, were now engaged bn archaeological 
work in Egypt. 

As the distance shortened, he began to count the number 
of the camels. It was not a large equipment. 

Quite suddenly the two leading camels of the approach- 
ing party strode forward, almost at a gallop, the curious 
gallop of fast-travelling desert camels. The next minute a 
clear voice called out : 

“Hallo, good morning! Have you used Pears’ Soap?” 

Michael’s heart stopped beating. It was Millicent’s 
voice. For the sake of appearances he returned her greet- 
ing gaily, although his heart was filled with anger. 

“No,” he cried back. “But I’ve used desert sand, which 
the Prophet said does as well.” 

Millicent had tricked him, cheated him. She had dis- 
covered his plans; she had laid hers very cleverly so as to 
meet him on the most desolate part of his journey. A 
vision of Margaret’s anger, had she seen her riding towards 
him, rose before his eyes. The tone of Michael’s voice ex- 
pressed something of his feelings; it made Millicent all the 
more daring. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


193 


arranged a surprise for you — wasn’t it clever?” 

“It is certainly a surprise,” Michael said. “Where are 
you going?” 

“Whither thou goest, I will go,” she said laughingly, 
“Where do you suppose I am going?” 

“This is absurd, Millicent!” Michael lowered his voice. 

“Why absurd? The desert’s big enough for us both, isn’t 
it?” 

“I should have thought it suflSciently big to have made 
our meeting unnecessary.” 

“Now, Mike, don’t be an ungracious pig ! Here I am and 
here I mean to stay. I won’t bother you, so just be nice.” 

The mules and camels of both parties had met. The men 
had joined forces and much talking was going on amongst 
the natives. 

“Have you come alone?” Michael asked. 

“My dragoman is with me.” 

“Of course,” Mike said. “I know that. But are you by 
yourself, without any other European?” 

“Quite,” Millicent said. “I didn’t want anyone. Has- 
san’s a reliable dragoman. I came to meet you.” 

“Do you think it was nice of you?” 

“Well, no,” she said. “Perhaps not, but it is nice for 
me, Mike, and it will be nice for you, too, if you will only 
be sensible and accept the situation.” 

“What do you mean by being sensible?” he asked. 

“Just allowing me to come, and being pleasant and 
happy and enjoying yourself. I’ve everything I need — I 
won’t ask you for a single thing but happiness.” 

“I shan’t be happy — I wished to be alone. You knew it.” 

“What harm shall I do? I’ll halt when you halt. I’ll 
go on when you go on. I’ll be douce comme un lapin hlanc 
— I really can be, Mike.” Her eyes asked him if in that 
respect she was not speaking the truth. 

“Yes,” he said. “You can be anything you want to be.” 

13 


194 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


He sighed. ‘T wish you oftener wanted to be good, Milli- 
cent; I wish you oftener wanted to please me and not 
always only yourself.” 

‘T’d get nothing if I did, Mike. I stole this march on 
you, half for fun and half because it’s no use trusting to 
you. I never see you — you are afraid of yourself.” 

“I told you it was useless.” He moved his camel further 
from hers. ‘T must see what is to be done. You must turn 
back. Your very presence disturbs all my ideas.” 

‘^The natives think this is a prearranged plan, of course. 
They give you the benefit of being more human than you 
are.” 

Michael looked at her in annoyance. He knew that she 
was right; he knew that even Abdul, the visionary, would 
not believe him if he told him otherwise; he knew that 
already he had formed his own opinion of Michael’s 
surprise. 

Millicent’s veil almost completely hid her face. She 
flung it up over her sun-hat. As Abdul came to his mas- 
ter’s side, Michael saw his eyes linger on the English- 
woman’s beauty. He knew that to the Eastern, mixture of 
-mystic and fanatic as he was, her freshness and fairness 
were like the scent of white jasmine to his nostrils. 

This woman, who loved his master — for already Milli- 
cent’s dragoman had confided her secret to him — was very 
rarely beautiful, and in his eyes very desirable; but she 
was false. His eyes had instantly seen beyond. Because 
she was false she interested him. She was not like other 
Englishwomen ; she was not like the girl who was the sister 
of EfFendi Lampton. This wealthy Englishwoman, whose 
body was as sweet as a branch of scented almond-blossom, 
had thoughts in her heart like the thoughts of his own 
countrywomen. In his Eastern mind, Englishwomen re- 
tained their virgin minds and ideas even when they were 
married women with families; to their end they retained 
the hearts and minds of innocent children. This slender 
creature, a sweet bundle for a man’s arms, thought as his 

/ 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 195 

countrywomen thought. He saw into her mind as he had 
seen into the unopened tomb. 

He was amazed at the Effendi, not because of this meet- 
ing with his mistress — it was not an unheard-of thing in the 
desert; he was not accustomed to the ways of men and 
women of all nations when their passions control their ac- 
tions — he was amazed at his own false impression of EfFendi 
Amory’s character and mind. He had never for one 
moment contemplated such a contretemps he would never 
have imagined that he could be false to EfFendi Lampton’s 
sister. The meeting, however, lent a double interest to 
their journey. 

“The EfFendi has been fortunate in meeting his friend,” 
he said respectfully. Michael had turned to address him. 

“Yes,” Michael said. “We have been fortunate.” He 
saw no other way of settling the question. For the present 
he must quietly accept the inevitable. Millicent had insisted 
that she had a perfect right to follow him, even if he 
refused to allow her to join his party. 

“We will go on, EfFendi.^ The Sitt will accompany us.?^” 
Abdul’s voice was expressionless, deferential. 

“For to-day, at least,” Michael said, “the Sitt will travel 
with us.” He knew that equivocation was useless. 

Abdul searched his master’s eyes. There was no love in 
them, no passion for the woman he had taken all this 
trouble and secrecy to meet. Englishmen were strange 
beings. Time would prove which way the wind of desire 
blew. Was it from the woman to the man or from the man 
to the woman Had Michael the qualities of Orientals for 
dissembling his feelings It was rare amongst Europeans. 

The cavalcade moved on. A fresh element had been intro- 
duced into it. The at-all-times low talk of the natives soon 
became more obscene than it is possible for Western minds 
to imagine. Its influence affected the sublime silence of the 
desert. God no longer shadowed the distance. 

Michael knew the native mind. He had heard the work- 
men at the excavation camp, and even the girls and women 


196 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


in the desert villages, discussing subjects freely and openly 
which to the Western mind are impossible. He had heard 
children and boys using language and ejaculations which 
would disgrace the lips of the most degraded Western. 

Before Millicent’s appearance his men had no doubt 
talked together in a way which would have shocked a 
stranger to the East if he could have understood what they 
were saying, but there had been an absence of any special 
topic; their talk had been impersonal. Now their interests 
were awakened, their lowest instincts were on the alert, 
their passion for intrigue whetted. Suggestion, like per- 
severance, can work miracles. With Millicent riding by his 
side and with the whole company of servants discussing 
their affairs, the desert had lost its purity, its healing 
powers. In its sands the Tree of Knowledge of Good and 
Evil seemed to need no water. 

Michael clung to the thought of Margaret. For some 
few moments they rode in silence. Michael was inarticulate ; 
his thoughts were like a flaming bush. In half an hour’s 
time they would halt for lunch; until that time Millicent 
held her soul in patience. 

Nothing was to be gained by a broken conversation on 
camel-back. A delicious excitement exalted her; her plans 
had succeeded; the very devil of insolence danced in her 
veins. She had trapped Michael and successfully outwitted 
Margaret Lampton. She was going to thoroughly enjoy 
herself. Michael, of course, ^ would become quite docile in 
her hands later on ; one of her gentle spells would reconcile 
him. 

‘‘How long have you been in the desert Michael asked. 

“We’ve camped for two nights,” she said. “It’s been 
perfectly beautiful ! We have had no difficulties, no adven- 
tures and we’ve scarcely met a living soul. This eastern 
desert is awfully desolate, Mike — you’re alone with your 
thoughts if you can’t speak to your dragoman.” 

“It’s very desolate,” Mike said. “And it’s quite different 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 197 

from the Valley in colour and in feeling — at least it is to 
me.” 

‘T think so, too. This morning we met a strange crea- 
ture — the only human we’ve struck — one of those desert 
fanatics, ^a child of God,’ as my dragoman called him.” 

Michael’s heart beat faster; he forgot his annoyance. 
‘‘Where did you meet him?” he asked. 

Millicent noticed the change in his voice. “Not long 
before we sighted you. He was travelling this way — we 
shall probably pass him. Our camels were travelling at a 
good pace.” 

“Did you speak to him ?” 

“No, I couldn’t, but Hassan did. I asked him about 
him. He told me that what we call an idiot or a village 
simple is really a man whose reasoning powers are in heaven. 
We see the material part of him, the part that mixes with 
ordinary mortals. To the Mohammedans such people are 
considered sacred, special favourites of God.” 

“Yes, I know,” Michael said, “and the worst of it is that 
advantage is taken of that charming idea and dreadful 
things are done by rogues who pretend to be religious 
fanatics or holy men. Some of them are awful creatures, 
absolute impostors, but as a rule they frequent towns and 
cities. The genuine holy man, a ‘child of God,’ lives apart 
from his fellows in the desert.” 

“This poor creature wore a long cloak made out of all 
sorts of bits, a weird Joseph’s coat of many colours. His 
tall staff was hanging with tattered rags and his poor 
turban was in the last stages of decay.” Millicent ’s voice 
betokened genuine pity. “He looked terribly thin and 
tired. I ought to have given him some food — he wouldn’t 
accept money. I don’t think he grasped its meaning.” 

Michael’s thoughts were busy. “A little child will lead 
you, do not despise the favoured of God — their wealth is 
laid up for them in heaven.” 

And so they journeyed on, Millicent pleased at the result 
of her conversation. It had set Michael dreaming. 


198 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


‘^They have lots of beautiful ideas,” she said. She meant 
Moslems generally, not only the simples or religious fanatics. 

‘‘Yes,” Michael said. “No religion has more lofty or 
beautiful ideas and ideals.” 

“You don’t think their ideas are often put into practice?” 

“I don’t know,” Michael said. “It isn’t fair to judge — 
the Western mind can’t. Their ideas are beautiful and in 
obeying the laws laid down by the Koran they do beautiful 
and kindly acts; at the same time, their minds to us seem 
terribly polluted. Their religion doesn’t appear to elevate 
their general aims or thoughts of life.” 

“But isn’t it the same with the greater portion of 
Christians, with many of what we call religious people?” 
Millicent laughed. “I know it is with myself, Mike. I go 
to church and say my prayers and I think I believe in all 
the tenets of the Church and in the Bible — at least, I’d be 
frightened to not believe — and yet it doesn’t make me feel 
a bit better. I don’t really want to be good. I want to eat 
my cake on this earth and have it in heaven as well. All 
the nicest plums with you, Mike !” 

Michael laughed. Millicent was always so frank upon 
the subject of her own worthlessness. 

“We don’t know what these people would be like if they 
had no Koran to curb them,” Millicent said. “It may do 
more than you think. It’s a strong bearing-rein.” 

“That’s true. The Egyptians are, I suppose, about the 
most sensual of all Easterns — the women are considered so, 
at any rate, by Lane, and he knows them intimately.” 

Millicent laughed. “I’m sure they are, speaking gen- 
erally — that’s to say, I suppose you meet exceptions here 
and there, as in all other countries.” 

“The Prophet had his work cut out,” Michael said. 
“And the world doesn’t give him half the credit he deserves. 
The rules he laid down in the Koran are the only laws a 
Moslem really observes or reverences. His own soul teaches 
him nothing; it has "been buried far too long by the laws 
Imposed upon it ; his superman is non-existent. The natural 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


199 


man blindly obeys the Prophet’s teachings in the hope of 
the material rewards which will be his when he dies. The 
future life has always meant a great deal to the Egyptian 
peoples ; their existence on earth has since time immemorial 
only been looked upon as an apprenticeship for the fuller 
existence. The very fact that their earthly homes, even the 
Pharaoh’s palaces, were only built of sun-baked bricks made 
of mud, shows that they carried out in practice the saying 
in the Bible about having no abiding cities here. Their 
tombs were their lasting cities and they were built to endure 
throughout all eternity.” 

‘‘Anyhow, they are delightfully picturesque people in 
their devotions,” Millicent said. “I feel almost as pious 
when I watch a Moslem praying before sunset as I do when 
a boy’s voice is reaching up to heaven in one of our Gothic 
cathedrals at home. I think I’m at my best then, Mike, 
only no one is ever present to test me.” 

Michael knew exactly what Millicent meant. The emo- 
tional side of religion excited her senses. She imagined, 
when she was listening to a boy’s treble soaring up into the 
lofty heights of an English minster, that her soul was soar- 
ing with it, that she was deriving spiritual benefit from the 
service. He could picture her kneeling with folded hands, 
the polished nails conspicuously bright, and eyes upraised, 
listening to the boy’s clear, pure voice, her whole being in 
a satisfied sensuous ecstasy. 

He knew that this state of ecstasy was about as far as 
Millicent’s religion ever carried her. She was afraid to 
give up the flesh-pots of this world in case she found 
life without them too dull to be supportable. She enjoyed 
her state of being so thoroughly that she had no wish to 
change it. Her religion and church-going were, she con- 
sidered, sufficient to ensure her a place in heaven. It was 
her way of paying her future-life insurance policy, as were 
her many liberal gifts to charities. 

When the halt for lunch came, Michael and Millicent 
were to all outward appearance good friends. Michael had 


200 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


been considering within himself what attitude he ought to 
adopt towards her amazing adventure, what face he should 
try to put upon their meeting. His knowledge of the East 
told him that it was probably best to leave things alone, for 
whatever he said Hassan and Abdul would put their own 
construction on the affair. During their conversation, 
which had been carried on without the slightest regard for 
Michael’s annoyance at her appearance, his thoughts had 
been very busy. Their serious talk must come later on, 
when they halted for lunch. 

Among the many things which troubled him, Michael 
tried to solve the riddle of how Millicent had gained her 
knowledge of his movements. Freddy’s words had come 
back to him — that the fair Millicent had not come to their 
camp to learn of his engagement to Margaret! She had 
come to find out something which was more difficult to dis- 
cover. Had she seen the servants in the hut and questioned 
them when she was alone there ? Had she bribed Mohammed 
All? How otherwise had she found out all that she wanted 
to know.?^ 

When lunch-time came, Millicent’s splendid basket, ex- 
quisitely furnished and equipped with everything that could 
be desired for an appetizing and original lunch, was opened, 
instead of Michael’s, which contained the simple necessities 
of a desert outfit. They chose their halting place under the 
shadow of a mighty rock — they were reaching hilly ground. 
Millicent’s outfit included a sun-shelter, which was quickly 
raised and in incredible shortness of time they were com- 
fortably seated under it, on camp chairs at a camp table. 
Michael could not help showing his pleasure and admiring 
the dainty equipment. His child’s heart was very easily 
touched and pleased. Nothing was left undone which could 
be done to give freshness and daintiness to the scene. A 
luscious fruit salad looked cool and tempting in a glass 
bowl, while iced drinks, which had been carried in ingenious 
Eastern water-coolers, appealed to parched lips. The gal- 
antine of chicken and the selection of hors d^ceiuvre would 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


201 


not have disgraced the table of the Cataract Hotel at 
Assuan. Here, indeed, were the flesh-pots of Egypt — la 
tentation de Saint Antoine. 

Millicent noticed Michael’s pleasure. It was expressive 
of his simple, open nature. In such moments he was very 
lovable. 

‘^Now, isn’t this nicer,” she said, “than pigging it 
alone?” ' 

“It’s beautiful,” he said. “What a wonderful outfit! 
How clever of you — I feel as if you had a magic wand.” 

“Hassan’s a good man — I left everything to him.” 

“He’s done it Al,” Michael said, more coldly. Suddenly 
he felt annoyed, vexed with himself, for yielding so easily 
to the pleasures which Millicent had provided, anticipating 
the enjoyment he would derive from eating all the good 
things. 

5 After three days’ hard travelling in the desert and some 
days spent in economical living in Luxor, while his arrange- 
ments were being made, he was readier than he imagined 
for a good and delicately-appointed meal. Even at the 
hut he had never sat down to a lunch such as this. The 
renaissance of the old Adam astonished him. 

The servants had betaken themselves to a sheltered spot ; 
discretion being nine-tenths of a good dragoman’s training, 
Hassan and Abdul saw to it that their master and mistress 
should not be disturbed, while they themselves remained out 
of sight, but within call. 

“Let’s sit down,” Millicent said. “I’m starving — the 
desert turns me into an absolute primitive.” 

They sat down and while Millicent rid herself of her 
gloves and sun-hat and veil, Michael remained lost in 
thought. How nice it was ! As nice as anything could be, 
if . . . the “if” was subconscious ... if he had only 
come on this journey into the desert to enjoy himself, if 
there was no Margaret. But there was a Margaret, and he 
adored Margaret, whose dear dark head and trustful eyes 
were ever present with him; they were as present in the 


202 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


shelter as the golden head and the inviting, provoking eyes 
opposite to him. There never again would be for him a 
world which held no Margaret, nor could he endure it if 
there was. And yet her very existence robbed this desert 
feast of its flavour. He knew that to be loyal and true to 
Margaret he ought not to be accepting and appreciating 
the dainty lunch laid before him. He ought not to be eat- 
ing it with the woman Meg detested. 

What if Margaret knew? What if his practical mystic 
had already had a vision of their meeting? Had some 
native carried Millicent’s plans to meet him to the Valley? 
Had the birds of the air brought the news to Freddy’s ears ? 
Was Margaret now tortured by a vision of this sumptuous 
desert picnic? Could she see him sitting alone with Milli- 
cent in her tent? He knew how mysteriously news travels 
in the desert, how quickly it journeys. A wave of anger 
flushed his face as he pictured to himself what Freddy 
would think of the situation. 

His hands trembled as he took Millicent’s dust-cloak and 
hat. She looked extremely pretty in her white muslin 
dress, which the cloak had hidden. Millicent mistook the 
meaning of his trembling hands. She had seen men’s hands 
tremble many times. 

‘‘Our little home,” she said, as she sat down at the table. 
“My desert dream realized. I’m so happy !” 

“Why did you do it?” Michael cried passionately. 

Millicent still mistook the nature of his emotion. She 
leaned across the table. “Don’t ask, dearest — ^just rest and 
be content. Hand me the sardines, like a dear man.” 

Michael handed her the sardines. How could he just 
rest and be content? If he did, he would allow himself to 
drift into the woman’s mood, he would be enjoying himself 
at the cost of his loyalty to Margaret. He would be drown- 
ing “the clear voice” with Moselle cup and smothering it 
with galantine of chicken and pigeon-pie. 

“I want you to promise me,” Millicent said, “just to eat 
this one meal happily with me, eat and forget. For half 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


g03 


an hour or more don’t ask me any questions and don’t 
scold !” She handed Michael an olive in her fingers. 
“Open,” she said. “They’re so good.” 

Michael opened his mouth, but he took the olive from her 
fingers into his own. 

“Will you do what I ask.?^” she said. “If you will, I’ll 
promise to listen to you afterwards. Your conscience is 
an awful bore, Michael.” 

“I’m an awful bore apart from my conscience. It’s 
simply your impish persistence that makes you desire my 
society. It can’t be anything else.” 

“Perhaps it is,” Millicent said. “All the same, will you 
promise.^” 

“Very well,” Michael said. “That’s a bargain. I prom- 
ise.” 

“For this one meal you’ll be like you used to be?” 

“What was that?” he asked. Her words annoyed him. 

“Mine,” she said. “Mine and not Margaret Lampton’s.” 

Michael put down his knife and fork and looked straight 
into the eyes of the woman opposite him. 

“I am Margaret Lampton’s,” he said, “and you’d better 
know it. I’m Margaret Lampton’s, body and soul.” He 
flung her hand away. 

Millicent gave a suggestive whistle. “Wh-o-o !” she said, 
with a low laugh. “So that’s it?” 

“What do you mean ?” he said. 

“Nothing — I didn’t say anything, did I? Oh, don’t let’s 
quarrel — let’s enjoy our lunch.” 

“Very well,” he said. “Let’s, for time’s flying. But it’s 
best for you to know that I’m Margaret’s.” 

“Never mind — ^lend yourself to me for a few days. 
Surely she won’t mind if we amuse ourselves in the desert?” 

“I’m not going to lend myself to you,” he said. “What 
nonsense you talk ! You’re going back the way you came. 
You can play with someone else.” 

“You dear silly, you can’t make me !” Millicent laughed 
at the idea. “Besides, you know you want me all the time. 


204 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


and you’ve just promised to enjoy this jolly little meal and 
to lecture me afterwards. I’m not going to be unhappy 
because you belong to Margaret Lampton.” 

“So long as you know I do,” he said, “I feel I can eat 
your excellent lunch.” 

“And if Margaret doesn’t know, what can it matter.^” 

“Oh, Millicent!” 

“You know, Mike, it’s what’s found out that matters. If 
you enjoy yourself and make me happy for two or three 
days in the desert and Margaret never knows, what harm 
could it do.?^” 

“If you can’t see the harm for yourself,” he said, “I 
can’t show it to you.” 

“Well, I can’t,” she said. “But let’s talk of something 
else. Margaret is taboo — she’s spoilt half our lunch.” 

“First tell me how you got here, how you knew of my 
movements. I spoke of them to no one.” 

“No, no, that also is taboo — until after lunch.” 

“What can w^e talk about 

Millicent looked at him. Her eyes suggested another 
topic — themselves. “Is that taboo as well!” she said, as 
Michael’s eyes dropped under hers. 

“Absolutely,” he said. 

“Happy idea I” she cried. “The tomb ! If we mayn’t 
talk of Margaret or of our two selves or of how 1 got here, 
or of whence I came or whither you are going, surely a 
tomb is a safe topic.?” 

“Yes,” Michael said, “if any topic is safe with you.” 

“Ah,” Millicent said. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve 
said.” 

“I didn’t mean to be nice. What’s nice in that.?” 

“But you were nice, awfully nice. If there are so many 
danger-zones to be avoided between us, you don’t feel very 
safe, very sure of yourself. That’s triumph number one 
for Millicent; Margaret’s lost one point already.” 

“I thought Margaret was taboo?” 

“Oh, so she was — I beg her pardon!” She sighed. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 205 

‘One word is too often profaned for me to profane it,’ 
etc.” She put her elbows on the table. “Oh, Mike, aren’t 
you an odd darling? I do love teasing you. If you weren’t 
so easily ragged, I wouldn’t.” 

“Do go on with your lunch,” he said. “And don’t chat- 
ter so much. We only have a certain amount of time for 
lunch and digestion. This pie’s delicious.” 

“Where are we going? When do we go on?” Millicent 
was not oblivious of the fact that he spoke of their going 
on as an accepted fact. 

“So you don’t know? You haven’t found out every- 
thing?” 

“No, I knew enough to bring me to you. That was all I 
wanted. You can tell me the rest.” 

Michael was silent. 

“My dear man, you needn’t tell me if you don’t want to, 
but remember that no secrets are hid from the hand that 
hath baksheesh, I found out what I wanted to know; I 
can find out more.” 

“I’d rather you found out,” he said, “than I told you.” 

“Right ho ! Funny man !” 

“Do you want to hear about the tomb, or don’t you?” 

“Oh, yes, rather!” Millicent’s teeth were busy picking 
the leg of a pigeon. “Tell me everything.” 

Michael told her everything he could remember, the 
things which he knew would interest her, the most personal 
facts relating to the minute examination of the tomb. It 
was proving a great puzzle to Egyptologists. There were 
many conflicting theories about it — whether the mummy 
which was found on the floor beside the effigy of the dead 
queen was the mummified body of the queen or not. It 
had been sent away to be carefully examined by experts; 
the report of the examination had not yet been made known. 
If it was the body of the queen, why had they endeavoured 
to cut off the golden wrappings which had been rolled 
round her body? Why had her name been roughly cut out 
of the inside of the coffin? Wky had this queen, who had 


206 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


been buried with such royal magnificence, been ‘‘^debarred 
from all benefits of the earthly prayers of her descend- 
ants? Why had she become a nameless outcast, a wanderer 
unrecognized and unpitied in the vast underworld?”^ 

These ques^tions had not yet been solved. Millicent was 
excited and interested and Michael enjoyed telling her 
about it. She was inquisitive and insistent. She wanted to 
know all about the doings in the camp since her visit to the 
valley, and Michael thoroughly enjoyed talking to a sym- 
pathetic, intelligent listener. Like all Celts, he had the gift 
of words. 

He was so engrossed that Hassan appeared with their 
coffee long before he was ready for it or expected it. No- 
ticing his surprise, the man instantly took his cue. He 
salaamed respectfully in front of Millicent. 

I he said, ‘Vill it please you to wait for an- 

other hour? The camels are not yet rested, the day is still 
young.” 

Millicent looked at Michael. Time really did not matter 
to him one scrap, yet she dared not hint so. He could just 
as well look for this phantom treasure a year from now. It 
was all a mystic’s mirage to her, a delightful excuse for a 
sojourn in the outer desert/ 

^ ‘T’m ready if you are,” she said, addressing Mike. Her 
woman’s tact told her the wisdom of putting no hindrance 
in his way. 

“If the Effendi will graciously consent, it would be wiser 
to remain here for one hour more,” Hassan said. “The men 
are tired, also.” 

Michael assented. If the beasts and the men were tired, 
they would wait. The excuse was not unwelcome. The 
good meal had relaxed his energies. Hassan thanked him 
and silently disappeared. 

Michael sipped his coffee; It was perfect. He lit a cig- 
arette, after they had turned their chairs to the open front 
1 Weigall’s Akhnaton, Pharaoh of Egypt, 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


207 

of the shelter. Presently Millicent slipped down from her 
chair and sat on the sand in front of the tent; there was 
more air. Soon Michael did the same. 

They had lunched well and were friends. A certain de- 
licious apathy stole over Michael, which kept him from re- 
ferring to any unpleasant topics. He left alone the sub- 
ject as to why Millicent had trapped him and forced her 
company upon him. For the time being she was good and 
gentle, the reason being that she also was relaxed and in- 
ert — ^the result of a good meal after a strenuous morning 
on camel-back. 

Michael had been riding since dawn. The temptation to 
let things alone was an unconscious one; he submitted to 
it. 

A great expanse of the desert was before them. Millicent 
lay curled up, like a golden tortoise-shell cat, in the sun; 
Michael, with his legs doubled up to his chin, rested his head 
on his knees. He would have been asleep in a few minutes 
if Millicent had not spoken; suddenly she said: 

^^Look! Surely that’s my holy man, whose reasoning 
powers are in heaven? There, look — far away, over there !” 

Michael raised himself and looked to where she pointed. 
There was nothing to indicate any particular spot in the 
stretch of sand before them. 

can just see the tattered rags of his staff. Pm sure 
it’s the same man. Can’t you see him?” 

Michael looked again. can only distinguish some- 
thing moving in the distance. I can’t say what it is, or if it 
is coming this way.” 

^‘Can’t you see a thing like a flag fluttering in the air? 
I can — there, can’t you see him now?” 

‘Wes, now I can,” Michael said. He got up from his 
low seat, his energies fully alert, his drowsiness gone. He 
held himself in check. It was absurd to appear so interested 
In a desert-fanatic — or an Idiot — coming across their path. 
They were both common enough occurrences in the East. 

Millicent watched his face. Why was he so thrilled, why 


208 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


so interested? Michael’s first impulse was to go and meet 
the man. He was afraid that he would not notice their en- 
campment. He was afraid that he would not come their 
way. At the same time, he was conscious that if there was 
any truth in the old man’s words, their meeting would come 
about naturally and not by his seeking. The ‘^child of 
God” would find him out. 

They waited for some time and nothing happened. 
Michael’s hopes abated. The figure with the fiuttering rags 
disappeared. It seemed as if it had vanished into the sands. 
Michael felt disappointed. 

The shelter was taken down and packed up, the lunch- 
basket refilled and the camels harnessed. Hassan appeared. 

‘‘Fa, Sitt, all is ready.” 

Nothing had been said about Millicent’s plans ; nothing 
had been said about how she had contrived to meet Michael ; 
no lecture had been delivered. The subject had been for- 
gotten, forgotten by Michael at least, whose interest had 
been absorbed in the talk about the tomb and in the glimpse 
he had of the distant figure. Millicent had not forgotten 
the promised lecture, but it had been her object to make 
Michael forget it. She had gladly let the matter rest. 
Why wake sleeping dogs? She let them lie so undisturbed 
that not one bark had been heard. They slept so soundly 
that her heart was full of triumph and amusement when, 
seated on her camel, she took her place in Michael’s caval- 
cade. 

She had managed to get through the starting without his 
'’eeling any annoyance at her presence. He had simply 
orgotten his objection to her accompanying him. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


209 


CHAPTER II 

It was not until their rest at sundown that anything of 
unusual interest happened to the travellers. Their short 
halt while they drank their tea had passed without incident 
— in fact, Millicent had drunk hers alone on camel-back, 
for it had been carried in thermos flasks, their Amon-Ra, 
as Hassan called the magic bottles whose contents retained 
the heat with no obvious aid. 

Michael had spent the time, while he drank his refreshing 
cup, in consulting Abdul about their route. The camels 
were not unsaddled. About this Millicent made no de- 
mur. She saw no earthly reason why they should not have 
rested for as long as they felt inclined, but she did not say 
so. If this treasure which Michael sought had lain in its 
safe hiding-place, out of sight of man, for more than two 
thousand years, why should it not wait there in safety for 
another couple or so of hours ? This she kept to herself ; 
it was her wise policy to remain douce comme un lapin 
blanc^ which she did. The night might still see her an ac- 
cepted part of Michael’s cavalcade. The adventure thrilled 
her with excitement. 

They had finished their evening meal, which Millicent 
had supplied — a very satisfying and delicate dinner. They 
had eaten it in the open desert during the cool hours which 
precede sundown. Michael had thoroughly enjoyed it. 
The evening light transformed the desert ; a heavenly Jeru- 
salem seemed very near. Even Millicent was obedient to 
the unseen. 

As the sun sank lower and lower in the heavens, their 
conversation drifted towards the subject of Akhnaton’s 
Aton worship. The kneeling figures of the Arabs, praying 
in the desert before sundown, had introduced the topic. 

14 


210 THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 

They sat on until the globe of gold dropped behind the 
horizon — a wonderful sight in the desert. For a minute 
or two its sudden and complete disappearance leaves the 
world chill and desolate; a cold hand clutches at the hu- 
man heart; a loneliness enters the soul. God has aban- 
doned the world ; the warmth of His love becomes a memory. 

The afterglow was at its most flamboyant; Its orange 
and yellow, streaked with black, suddenly became vermilion. 
Lights from the underworld struck across the desert like 
swords of fire; arms of flame broke the vermilion, soaring 
to heaven like the fires from hell’s furnace let loose. The 
anger and beauty and recklessness was appalling. Then 
with magic swiftness, dilring the flickering of an eye, the 
horizon became one vast lake of sacrificial blood. 

The transition was so unexpected, so devastating to the 
human mind, that fear filled Millicent’s heart. Instinctively 
she had drawn a little closer to Michael. She craved for 
arms to guard her, to protect her from the terror of the 
heavens. 

Like a black silhouette against the lake of blood, a hu- 
man figure rose up out of the desert, a John the Baptist, “a 
burning and shining light,” a voice calling in the wilder- 
ness. 

As the sonorous words of the Koran were borne to them, 
Millicent said, “Oh, Mike, it’s my holy man ! How mys- 
terious he looks against that wonderful sky!” 

Subconsciously Michael had been so grateful to Millicent 
for her silence during the stupendous glory of the sunset 
that his heart was full of gentleness towards her. 

“Yes,” he said. “I see him.” Something had told him 
that the figure which she had described to him during 
luncheon would appear again; he was not surprised when 
he distinguished the staff, with its tattered rags waving 
against the crimson light. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 211 

‘Tsn’t it all wonderful, Mike?” Her voice was reverent; 
the awfulness of the heavens had humbled her. ‘T was 
almost afraid — it seemed like the end of the world, the sky 
seemed all on fire. The destruction of the world had be- 
gun.” 

“ ^Thy setting is beautiful, O living Aton, who guides! 
all countries that they may make laudation at thy dawning 
and at thy setting.” 

^•^Are those Akhnaton’s words?” 

^Wes, and his constant song was, ‘O Lord, how manifold 
are Thy works.’ Most surely he would have said so to- 
night.” Michael’s thoughts flew to the morning at whose 
dawn he had first recited to Margaret Akhnaton’s hymn to 
the rising sun. 

Millicent did not guess that Margaret was present while 
they stood together in silence, watching the blood tones 
grow fainter and fainter. 

As they stood looking towards the horizon until all vio- 
lence had left the heavens, the desert flgure drew nearer. 
Millicent knew him by his long, unkempt hair. Even at a 
distance his fine white teeth gleamed against his tanned 
skin. 

“He’s a mere skeleton,” Millicent said. “Look at him! 
He’s all eyes and hair and teeth !” 

“Poor creature !” Michael said. has certainly no 

flesh left to subdue.” 

As they spoke, the fanatic suddenly tottered, strode for- 
ward and fell, face downwards, on 'the sand of the desert. 
Instinctively Michael hurried forward to his assistance. 
There was little doubt but that he was famished and ex- 
hausted for want of food ; the distances between desert vil- 
lages are immense. 

“Don’t go!” Millicent cried. “Dcfn’t, Mike! He’s 
probably filthy and crawling with vermin ; he looked awful 
this morning. I’ll send two of my men to him and I’ll tell 
Hassan to prepare some food for him. Hassan! Hassan !” 
Her voice was clear and far-reaching. 


212 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


Abdul instantly appeared. Hassan was busy giving or- 
ders to the men for pitching the tents. So quickly did 
Abdul come that he might have sprung up out of the desert 
at her very feet. This immediate response to her call al- 
ways made Millicent suspicious of eavesdropping. 

‘^Abdul,” she said, ‘‘the holy man we met this morning 
is ill. Tell the bearers to go to him — don’t let the Effendi 
touch him, Hassan.” 

‘^Aiwah, Sitt, I will attend.” With the same breath 
Abdul screamed for two of the men to come and help the 
saint. They came with flying leaps towards him. 

“Mike, oh Mike !” Millicent cried. “Please, please come 
back ! You are so rash. Abdul, don’t let the EflFendi touch 
that man. He’s filthy. I saw him this morning — ^he’s a 
dreadful creature.” 

Abdul looked at the Effendi Amory’s mistress, the Chris- 
tian harlot. Such a woman dared to speak in this manner 
of one who was favoured of God, a blessed saint, of one 
to whom the devout women of his country would willingly 
give themselves as an act of grace! This child of God, 
beloved of Islam, was filthy in her vile eyes ! 

It was in this manner that Millicent unconsciously earned 
the vengeance of Abdul. Nothing of his hatred or scorn 
was noticeable. Millicent was under the impression that 
all Easterns are sensualists and slaves to beauty; she was 
ignorant of their profound contempt for all women; that 
their vilest thoughts are for Christians. With an outward 
approval for her anxiety that Michael should run no risks 
by touching the sick man, Abdul left her and hurried after 
the Effendi. 

But Michael had already reached him ; the fleshless figure 
lay bathed in the dying light of the afterglow. Hanging 
round his neck, a neck which looked like the neck of the 
dried mummy in Freddy’s wonderful tomb, there were 
many strings of cheap beads, and suspended from a bright 
green cord — ^the Prophet’s green — was one white cowrie 
shell. Half covered by his garment of many colours, and 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


213 


jealously enclosed in a small black cloth bag, was the most 
precious article of his scanty possessions. Michael knew 
that this pouch contained nothing less valuable than a few 
grains of sand from the Prophet’s tomb at Mecca. 

At Michael’s approach the fanatic raised himself and re- 
cited in half-delirious tones the Fafhdhy or the opening 
chapter of the Koran : 

^Tn the Name of God, the Merciful, the Gracious. Praise 
be unto God, the Lord of the worlds, the Merciful, the 
Gracious, the Ruler of the day of judgment. Thee do we 
worship, and of Thee do we beg assistance. Direct us in 
the right way, in the way of those to whom Thou hast been 
gracious, upon whom there is no wrath, and who have not 
erred.” 

When the sura was finished the man fell back; his 
strength failed him. Michael knelt down beside him in the 
desert. He raised his head; his wild eyes and emaciated 
face touched his heart. He knew something of the zeal of 
these religious Moslems, these desert sons of Allah. This 
man had obviously wasted himself to a skeleton. Truly, 
his reasoning powers were in heaven ; his religious ecstasies 
had well-nigh bereft him of his senses. 

Michael asked him if he was ill or if he was only faint 
from want of food. The saint did not know; physical ex- 
haustion overpowered him. At intervals he called loudly 
upon the name of Allah, in almost the same phraseology 
as the ancient Egyptians called upon Amon-Ra, the Lord 
of all worlds, whose seat was in the heavens. In the un- 
changing East, expressions never die. Akhnaton taught 
his disciples to pray to ^Dur Father, which art in Heaven.” 

As Michael listened to his appeals to Allah, he felt to- 
tally at a loss to know what to do for the material benefit 
of the zealot. He was afraid that he would die from ex- 
haustion. He was relieved when Abdul and the bearers 
came to his assistance. Abdul soon persuaded the man to 
drink some of the water which he had brought in a cup. 
As he did so, he noticed with satisfaction that the saint’s 


2U 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


head was resting on Michael’s arm, that his master was 
totally self-forgetful in his act of charity. Christian 
though he was, he was sincerely obeying the teaching of 
the Prophet Jesus, the one sinless Prophet of Islam, the 
Prophet Who, next to Mohammed, is best beloved of the 
faithful. Mohammed considered Jesus sinless; to his own 
unrighteousness he often alluded. In this act of grace, at 
least, the Effendi had not failed Him. 

When Michael offered the man another cooling drink, he 
swallowed it eagerly. It was like the waters of paradise to 
his parched throat. His flaming eyes tried to express his 
gratitude to his deliverer. Who was this heretic whose 
Angers had the gift of healing, from whose heart flowed 
the divine waters of charity? 

Michael understood. Inspired by the love In his heart 
for all suffering humanity, with something akin to the 
graceful imagery of words which comes naturally to the 
humblest native’s lips, he spoke to the man in a suitable 
manner. Rendered into English it would sound absurd. 

The servants appeared with some food which was sus- 
taining and appetizing, but the effort necessary for swal- 
lowing anything solid proved too much for the exhausted 
pilgrim. 

‘^Bring him to the camp, Abdul,” Michael said. will 
give him some brandy. As a medicine it is not forbidden.^” 

^‘No, Effendi, it is not forbidden.” 

The total absence of the sun had made the desert seem in- 
hospitable and dreary. The saint was too weak to protest 
and so he was carried to the camp. Millicent watched the 
slow procession with anger and amazement. She knew that 
Michael was rash and impetuous, but she had not given him 
credit for being such a fool. 

While he was being put to bed in a tent, and carefully 
attended to, Michael tried to discover if the saint was really 
ill, if he was suflPerIng from some specific malady, or if he 
was merely worn out with fatigue. He administered a 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


ai5 


drug to him which he hoped would soothe his nerves and 
allow him to sleep. 

In a dog’like manner the man’s tragic eyes eloquently 
expressed both his astonishment and gratitude. It was long 
since he had slept in a comfortable bed, under sheets and 
blankets. He rarely spoke, except to mutter or loudly 
chant in a half-delirious manner suras from the Koran. 

When Michael had attended to his simple wants and seen 
to it that his servants were not only willing but eager to 
nurse him, he left him to their care and immediately hur- 
ried off to his own tent to change his clothes and disinfect 
himself as thoroughly as possible — a necessary precaution, 
although the man had not been as dirty as Millicent had de- 
picted. His dilky or Joseph’s coat, was indeed tattered and 
his turban in the last stages of decay, but they were clean. 
His person was not off*ensive. A pathetic figure, fleshless 
and worn and neurotic; yet in the sands of the desert he 
had performed his ablutions before prayer, as prescribed 
by the Prophet in the Holy Book. The untrodden sands 
of the desert are as cleansing and purifying as the waters 
of Jordan. 

When Michael at last returned to Millicent, she said 
quite gently, although her inward woman burned with an- 
ger, ‘^Mike, are you mad or a saint How could you touch 
him?” 

“I’m far from being a saint!” he said. 

“You are as much one as that wretched creature, who 
has pretended he is one for so long that he now believes he 
is.” 

“Or his Moslem brethren do, perhaps you mean !” 

“Well, he acts up to their superstitious ideas.” 

“I can’t tell. He is too ill to speak. He is probably as 
sincere a Moslem as St. Jerome was a Christian — why not?” 

“What’s the matter with him?” A little fear clutched at 
Millicent’s heart. 

“I don’t know — Abdul couldn’t discover. The man is 


^16 THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 

too exhausted to talk. I’ll speak to him in the morning and 
find out.” 

‘T hope it’s nothing infectious — you were very rash, 
Mike!” 

‘Tt’s probably only physical exhaustion. He couldn’t eat 
anything, but he drank the water I gave him. I poured 
a little brandy in it — he wouldn’t have touched it if he had 
known.” 

‘‘Oh, wouldn’t he.?” Millicent’s voice expressed her dis- 
belief. 

“The Koran forbids the drinking of spirits.” 

Millicent laughed. “You wouldn’t think so when you 
pass the native cafes in Cairo! I thought you said they 
lived up to the letter of their religion, and missed the spirit- 
ual essence of it.?” 

“There are Moslems and Moslems. Do we all live up to 
the spirit of Christ’s teachings.? Have you always seen 
Christ-like Christians .?” 

Millicent shrugged her shoulders. “Well, I don’t pretend 
to live up to the spirit of my religion. There’s the com- 
forting reflection of a death-bed repentance for all Chris- 
tians — it’s never to late to mend, Mike !” 

“What about battle and murder and sudden death.?” 

“I take that risk. But, honestly, dear, are you going to 
adopt that fanatic, take him on with you.?” 

“I’m going to look after him until he’s better,” Michael 
said, “if that’s what you mean.” 

“You’ve got one protege in el-Azhar. I wonder where 
this one will find his home.?” 

“He will be all right in the morning. Some food and 
sleep will set him on his way again.” Michael’s eyes ex- 
pressed the fact that his thoughts had travelled to Milli- 
cent’s own position in his camp. She had wished to avoid 
this ; she had tried to obliterate her own personality. Her 
desire was to let Mike get pleasantly accustomed to her 
|companionship, to her place in his camp, to her harmless 
presence. She felt certain that if she could manage it for 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 217 

a day or two, he would let things slide. It was his nature 
to drift. 

The evening was almost at its close; night was drawing 
near. The evening star, with its one clear call, had ap- 
peared in the pale sky, guarded by the soft pure crescent 
of a new moon. The single star in the vast heavens made a 
tender appeal to the hearts of both Millicent and Michael. 
It intensified their solitude. It touched their senses with 
longing. If Margaret had been with Michael, his arms 
would have encircled her. 

Millicent owed her self-restraint to her calculating com- 
mon sense. To have had a lover on such a night as this 
would have been a splendid reward for all her trouble. In 
her heart she called the man at her side a fool, a pitiful fool, 
and herself an idiot for loving him. 

“It was a beautiful idea for Mohammed’s banner,” Mi- 
chael said at length. He had dtiven the thought even of 
Margaret from his mind. Suggestion is too potent a drug. 

“Was that what he took it from.?” Millicent said. “I 
never thought of it before — of course, it must have been.” 

“He must often have watched the evening star as we are 
watching it now, when he was a boy living in the desert. 
Later on, when he became the warrior prophet, he must have 
visualized the heavens as the background of his banner, 
and taken the evening star and the crescent moon as his 
symbols — the star and the crescent of Islam.” Michael 
paused. “In the same way, the full rays of the sun be- 
came the symbol of Aton, Akhnaton’s god and loving 
father.” 

“Your friend.?” Millicent said eagerly; it pleased her 
that Michael should speak of the things nearest his Heart. 
He was allowing her to approach him. 

Michael laughed. “And yours, too, I hope?” 

“Why?” Millicent’s heart quickened. 

“Because Akhnaton was the first man to preach simplic- 
ity, honesty, frankness and sincerity, and he preached it 
from a throne. He was the first Pharaoh to be a humani- 


^18 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


tarian, the first man in whose heart there was no trace of 
barbarism.”^ 

“Really?” Millicent said. Michael’s earnestness forbade 
levity. “How interesting! Do tell me more about him.” 

“He was the first human being to understand rightly the 
meaning of divinity.” 

“But what he taught didn’t last. We owe nothing to 
his doctrines, do we? Did it ever spread beyond his own 
kingdom ?” 

“Like other great teachers, he sacrificed all to his prin- 
ciples. Yet there can be no question that his ideals will 
hold good Hill the swan turns black and the crow turns 
white, till the hills rise up and travel and the deeps rush 
into the rivers.’ That’s how Weigall ends up the life he 
has written of the great reformer. How can you say that 
‘we owe nothing to him ? You might as say that we owe 
nothing to any of the great men of whom we have never 
heard, and yet you know that thought affects the whole 
world. Akhnaton made himself immortal by his prophe- 
cies — ^they were the eternal truths revealed to him by God.” 

“By a prophet, do you mean that he was a prophet like 
Moses, Jeremiah, Isaiah and so on?” 

“I mean that prophets were the seers to whom God com- 
municated knowledge. Prophets were the people to whom 
He made revelations; he enlightened their minds; He cer- 
tainly revealed Himself to Akhnaton, or how else could he, 
in that age of darkness, have evolved for himself an al- 
most perfect conception of divinity? Weigall says ‘he 
evolved a monotheist’s religion second only to Christianity 
itself in its purity of tone.’ If God had not revealed Him- 
self to Akhnaton as He did later on to Moses and Abraham, 
and as I believe He still does to our true reformers, how 
could he, as Weigall says, have evolved his beautiful relig- 
ion ‘in an age of superstition, and in a land where the gross- 
est polytheism reigned absolutely supreme’?” 

^ WeigalPs Akhnaton, Pharaoh of Egypt. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 219 

And are you now on your way to visit his tomb, Mike ? 
How thrilling !” 

‘‘Yes,” Michael said. He answered her simply, forget- 
ful of the fact that she could only have obtained her in- 
formation on this point in an underhand manner. 

“You know where it is?” 

“He was buried in the hills which lie beyond his city.” 

“Tel-el-Amarna ?” 

“Yes, the City of the Horizon, the capital he built when 
he found it necessary for the progress of his new religion 
to get away from Thebes, from the priests of Amon-Ra.” 

Michael’s thoughts became absorbed. They travelled to 
the mid-African in el-Azhar and then became mixed up with 
this meeting with the desert-saint. Could this poor, ema- 
ciated figure, so shrunken and worn with tropical fevers 
and famished for want of food, have any knowledge of the 
hidden treasure which the seer had visualized? 

Millicent allowed his thoughts to wander. She knew the 
force of silent companionship. She knew that, although he 
was apparently far from her, he was conscious of her pres- 
ence. She would have liked to ask him a thousand ques- 
tions, to have talked rather than held her peace; but her 
instinct as a woman forbade it. Something told her that 
during their talk Michael was one half saint, one half 
man, and the man-power was stronger than he knew. 

I Many stars had appeared in the sky, which had deep- 
ened. It was now the violet-blue of a desert night. The 
passion of the heavens was beginning. Could man and 
woman remain outside it? 

In the distance an occasional roar from one of the camels 
interrupted the silence. Surely it was a night for love, the 
love that needs no telling ! 

Millicent and Michael were seated on the sand, gazing 
into the deepening heavens. Michael was sorely disturbed. 

“Could anything be more Eastern?” Millicent said 
dreamily. In speech she had to walk very carefully. Her 
mystic bafiled her. 


220 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


‘^Nothing,” Michael said. ‘Tsn’t it sad to think what 
city-dwellers miss?” 

‘T love even the roar of the camels, don’t you.^” Her 
eyes were looking at the animals, as they knelt at rest in 
the distance, their long day’s journey done. What stored- 
up revenge their roars suggest ! They always seem to say, 
“My day will come, if it is yours to-day.” 

“Let’s think of the most English thing we can, Mike,” 
she said suddenly, “just by way of contrast.” 

They thought for a moment or two in silence. The arid 
desert was softened by the absence of the sun, its desolation 
was made more manifest. At night even more than by day, 
you could feel the immensity of its distance, its silent roll- 
ing from ocean to ocean. Nothing speaks to man’s heart 
more eloquently than the voice of perfect silence. 

For the sake of prudence Michael was consenting to Mil- 
licent’s suggestion to think of the most English scene he 
could. Was it a village public-house, full of hearty Eng- 
lish yokels, drinking their evening tankards of beer? This 
was about the time they would assemble. He had not yet 
formed his picture into words, Millicent had not spoken, 
when suddenly Abdul appeared and begged permission to 
speak to his master. 

The sick man was better; he had eaten some food and 
was conscious. Abdul had evidently some information 
which was for his master’s ear alone. He politely inferred 
that he could not say it before the honourable lady. 

Michael rose from his seat beside Millicent, who, being 
wise in her generation, said : “Then I will say good-night 
and go to bed. I am very tired.” 

“Good-night,” Michael said brightly, while a sudden 
sense of relief came to his heart. “I think you are very 
wise. You must be quite tired out.” 

“So far, so good,” Millicent said when she was alone. 
“What a weird mystic I’ve attached myself to!” She 
alluded to Michael, not to the Moslem saint. 

Her camp-outfit was so complete that in her desert bed- 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


221 


room there was scarcely an item missing which could en- 
sure her comfort. She contemplated going to bed with en- 
joyment. Where money is, there also are the fleshpots of 
Egypt, even if it is in the waterless tracts of the Arabian 
desert. 

Material comforts meant very much to Millicent. She 
enjoyed using all the little accessories belonging to a fas- 
tidious woman’s toilet; she enjoyed, too, the occupation of 
expending care on her person. Her rising up and lying 
down were ceremonies which she performed with unremit- 
ting attention. In her tent in the desert her perfumes and 
cosmetics and bath-salts afforded her a curious satisfaction. 
They told her that her management had been perfect; they 
appealed to her barbaric love of contrasts. It fed her 
pride very pleasantly to know that she could command 
these luxuries; to know that by her own wealth she could 
bring the trivialities of civilization into the elemental life 
of the desert excited her senses. 

Her natural beauty could have triumphed over the rav- 
ages made by the sun and the dry desert air. She was one 
of those fortunate women who needed few, if any, of the 
absurdities which she carried about with her wheresoever she 
went. To have done without them would have been to de- 
prive herself of a very genuine pleasure, to have starved 
one of her eager appetites. Margaret’s rapid tub, the swift 
brushing and combing and plaiting of her dark hair, gen- 
erally while she read some passage from a book which in- 
terested her, and her total disregard for cosmetics, would 
have horrified Millicent if she had known of her habits. 
The height of civilization to Millicent was expressed in a 
luxuriously-appointed dressing-table and in an excessive 
care of her body. Progress touched its high-water mark in 
the perfection of her creature comforts. Taken from this 
standpoint, progress could scarcely go any further, or so 
Michael would have thought if he had watched her ritual 
of going to bed. 

She dawdled pleasantly through It, enjoying every mo- 


222 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


ment of the time, appreciating the handling of artistically- 
designed silver objects, performing with care the washing 
of her face with oatmeal and the dusting of her fair skin 
with the latest luxury in powder. She liked to take the 
same care of her person as a young mother takes of her first 
baby, and — as she expressed it — to smell like one when the 
ceremony was finished. 

Her love of contrasts appealed to her, when she stood, 
all ready for^bed in her foolish nightgown — a mere veil of 
chiffon — becomingly guarded by a Japanese kimono of 
the softest silk. She visualized the timeless desert outside 
her tent, the trackless ocean of silence, the uninhabited 
primitive world. She felt like a queen, travelling in state 
through a waterless, foodless world. 

She held up her empty arms. Some other night ! Some 
other night ! Her heart assured her. With a sigh of con- 
tent she lay down to sleep, well satisfied with her own dip- 
lomacy and cunning. Her last conscious thoughts were 
of Margaret Lamptoii. What was she doing to-night 
What were her thoughts 

Late that night, as Abdul passed the Englishwoman’s 
tent, he spat at her door. 


CHAPTER III 

What was Margaret doing that night 

Many days had passed since she had heard from Mi- 
chael, but there was nothing in that to cause her anxiety. 
She did not expect to hear from him after his desert jour- 
ney had begun, except by happy chance. If he passed a 
desert mail-carrier, he would give him a letter to be posted 
when he arrived at the nearest town. 

A desert mail-carrier is a weird object to Western eyes 
or to the eyes of a city-dweller. Almost naked, he travels 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


223 


across the desert on swift camels, carrying a long sword for 
the protection of the royal mails. 

So far Margaret had received no desert letter. Her 
days had passed smoothly and swiftly, for Freddy had kept 
her hard at work. Each day her interest in his work in- 
tensified; the more she learned of Egyptology and of 
archaeology generally, the more wholly absorbing it became. 
She had developed into a very essential member of the 
camp. 

With splendid common sense and determination, she had 
succeeded in throwing herself body and soul into the work 
which filled her days. She had made up her mind when she 
parted with Michael that not even by thought would she 
retard his work and mission. When she allowed her mind 
to travel to him, it was to convey currents of stimulating 
love and encouragement. If thoughts are things, as he al- 
ways told her, then the things her thoughts were to give 
him must be happiness and confidence. Keeping this stead- 
ily before her, she had spent healthy, happy days with her 
brother. In their sympathies and interests they had drawn 
even closer together. Strangers might well have taken them 
for lovers, so eagerly did they look forward each morning 
to their long evening to be spent together. Therfe was very 
little time for play; their days were made up of hard, ex- 
acting work. 

Experts were busy forming their opinions and writing 
their official reports upon the contested subjects connected 
with the tomb. The mythological and archaeological finds 
in it were of exceptional interest. 

On this night, when Millicent in the eastern desert had 
held up her arms to the heavens and questioned the un- 
seen, Margaret had gone early to bed. For some reason — 
perhaps owing to the great heat of the day and to the air- 
lessness of the chamber of the tomb where she had been 
painting, she had felt a bit ^‘nervy,’’ as she had expressed 
her state of being to Freddy. She had tried to read, but 
had failed. Her thoughts had wandered ; her memory had 


224 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


retained nothing of what she had read; at the end of a 
paragraph she knew as little of what it had been about as 
though she had never read it. Concentration was beyond 
her power. 

‘T’m only wasting time, Freddy,” she said after a last 
desperate effort to concentrate her thoughts on her book. 

going to bed. If I talked, Pd probably grouse — 
thaPs how I feel.” 

“Right you are, old girl. Pll soon be off, too. How’d 
you like to go to Luxor for a few days 

“Oh, no, Freddy !” Meg’s whole being rejected the idea. 

“All right — only don’t get the jumps.” 

“A good sleep will put me right,” she bent her head as 
she passed her brother and lightly kissed his glittering hair. 
He was busy with a plan, of extraordinarily minute details. 
“You’re such a dear, Freddy.” 

“Rot!” 

“You are, a thumping old dear.” 

“Don’t you worry, old girl. Mike’s all right. Bad 
news travels on bat’s wings, so they say. You’d have heard 
long before this if anything was wrong.” 

* It was just like Freddy to understand. Meg felt cheered. 
She sat herself down beside him, quite close to his elbow, 
and watched him for some moments. They were perfectly 
silent. Freddy’s practical, healthy, buoyant personality 
soothed her. Her big love for him brought a sudden lump 
to her throat. Happy tears dimmed her sight. Hungrily 
she pressed his arm close to hers and rubbed her cheek 
against his coat. The next moment she had left the room. 

Freddy’s eyes followed her. “Not the life for a girl, 
somehow,” he said, a line of worry puckering his forehead, 
and for a few moments his thoughts deserted his work. 
It became faulty; he had to use his india-rubber over and 
over again. It was Meg’s vision of Akhnaton that had in- 
truded itself upon his work; he must drag his thoughts 
back again. 

Meg had told him about her vision. Before the tomb had 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 225 

been opened, Freddy would have completely pooh-poohed 
the whole thing. He gave no real credence to it now ; still, 
there was a subtle difference in his attitude towards the 
whole subject of the supernatural. His mind did not so 
completely reject it as he thought. The extraordinary 
exactness of the seer’s vision of the inside of the tomb had 
not been without its effect. He also knew how constantly 
and ardently Akhnaton had prayed that his spirit might 
‘‘go forth to see the sun’s rays,” that his “two eyes might be 
opened to see the sun,” that he might “obtain a sight of 
the beauty of each recurring sunrfse.” 

When Meg went to bed, she slept soundly, very soundly. 
She must have been asleep for some hours when suddenly she 
awoke with unusual alertness. The intensity of her dream 
had wakened her. She had heard Michael’s voice crying, 
as though it were vainly trying to reach her. It was as 
clear as the overseer’s whistle each morning; it had wak- 
ened her just as suddenly. The anguish of his soul came 
to her out of the silence. Three times he had called her 
distinctly. 

She started up, with the words “Yes, Mike, I’m coming.” 
They were said before she realized that she was separated 
from him by the Valley and the river and the eastern desert. 

Sitting up in bed she listened. Everything was still. 
She jumped out of bed and looked out of the window. The 
stars in the sky shone down on the hills which covered the 
sleeping Pharaohs as they had shone when Michael had 
told her that he loved her, as they had shone before the 
Valley became a city of the dead. 

Margaret slipped on her dressing-gown and opened the 
door. She went quietly out and stood In front of the hut, 
with eyes raised to the heavens. She felt as if her heart 
was bursting with the prayers that filled it. What could 
she do.?^ Nothing — nothing but give herself up to God, 
open her heart and reveal its burden to the Lord of all 

15 


226 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


worlds, trust her inarticulate prayers to His everlasting 
mercy. Very softly she whispered, almost ashamed of her 
own impotence, “I want to go to Michael. Allow my spirit 
to console him.” 

Her hands were clenched. An imploring agony held her 
unconscious of all else but her desire to get outside herself 
and appear to her lover. She had no more words; speech 
was needless. Her wants were as infinitely beyond the lim- 
its of speech, as infinity is beyond our conception of space 
or time. 

For a few minutes she stood lost in the one thought. And 
who shall say in what name her prayer was answered by the 
divine mercy 

Gradually a subtle untightening of her muscles relaxed 
her hands even while they remained folded. Something 
had gone out of her. Was it virtue.^ Unconscious of her 
material self, for her thoughts had not yet returned from 
their mission of healing, she remained standing in the same 
attitude of appeal. 

Suddenly her imagination folded her in her lover’s arms. 
She heard him say, ‘^My beautiful Meg, the stars adore 
you !” 

And she answered, ‘T am with you, Mike, just as I was 
on that night when your love made a new world for me. 
You called to me and so I came. Your arms are round me. 
... I can hear your voice.” 

Margaret sighed. Consciousness of her material sur- 
roundings was returning. She heard a step behind her; 
someone was present. It was Freddy. 

‘‘What are you doing, Meg.^” he said anxiously. 

She turned swiftly to him. “Oh, Freddy, Michael wanted 
me. My dream was too real not to have some meaning. I 
couldn’t bear it — I had to try to help him !” 

“You were dreaming.'^ You were in bed.?^” 

“Yes, and sound asleep. Suddenly he called me. It was 
extraordinarily real.” Meg put her hands up to her head 
as though it was tired. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 227 

“But you can’t help him by standing out here. It’s too 
chilly.” 

Meg shivered. “It is cold,” she said wearily. “And I’m 
awfully tired.” 

Freddy linked his arm through his sister’s. “Let’s sit 
and talk together indoors, for a bit. Have a cigarette?” 

Meg thanked him with tired eyes. Freddy put his hands 
on her shoulders as she sank into a deck-chair, and looked 
into her eyes. “No more visions, old girl?” 

“No, Freddy, oh no, no vision.” Meg spoke dreamily, 
absently, and with an exhaustion which worried her brother. 

“Then why so tired?” 

“I don’t know. I suppose it was my dream. I feel as 
if I’d travelled for days and days !” 

“Look here, you’re going to have some of this.” Freddy 
poured out a small portion of brandy into a glass and made 
her swallow it. “The desert plays the dickens with the 
strongest nerves. Don’t be so rash again, Meg.” 

“I promise.” Meg swallowed the brandy and Freddy lit 
her cigarette. With a tact she little dreamed of he con- 
trived to divert her thoughts into a channel far removed 
from the eastern desert and personal matters. 

The news from home for the last few weeks had been far 
from satisfactory. English politics seemed to revolve 
round the atrocious acts of the suffragettes who believed 
in the militant policy and the disturbances in Ireland. 
Freddy’s sympathies, of course, were with Ulster; the Na- 
tionalists and Sinn Feiners belonged to the unemployable 
unemployed class of agitators who “walk on their heads.” 

When at last the brother and sister parted, Meg was re- 
stored both in mind and body to her normal healthy con- 
dition. 


228 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


CHAPTER IV 

When Michael entered the sick man’t tent, he was sur- 
prised to find how much better he seemed. He had re- 
gained a little strength and partial consciousness. But he 
was still weak and suffering from the effects of malaria] 
fever, or so Michael imagined, though he was articulate 
and his mind seemed to be clearing. 

The more Michael saw of him the more sure he was that 
he was neither an idiot nor a lunatic, nor one of the class in 
the East whose flagrant acts of immorality do not affect 
their fame for sanctity. Certainly his thoughts and rea- 
soning powers appeared still to be in heaven, but that was 
because he was a religious zealot. Of the genuineness of 
his piety there could be no doubt. The impostors and char- 
latans who bring discredit upon the term ‘‘holy man,” who 
trade upon the credulity of the natives, do not seek the 
wastes of the arid eastern desert. The neighbourhood of 
hospitable villages and cities suits their profession and 
tastes better. 

The saint had requested of Abdul that he might thank 
the Effendi for his charity. Before sunrise he wished to 
leave the tent. 

As Michael approached him, he called out in a weak but 
sonorous voice a sura from the Koran : 

“ ‘Verily those who do deeds of real kindness shall drink 
of a cup tempered with camphor.’ ” 

The word camphor {kafler)^ which is derived from the 
word kafr, means to “suppress or cover.” Michael under- 
stood. The quaffing of camphor, as spoken of in the Koran, 
is supposed to subdue unlawful passions; it cleanses the 
heart ; it rids man’s mind of all material desires. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


229 


thank you, O my father.” Michael used the ordin- 
ary form of a Moslem in addressing one of a higher spir- 
itual station than himself. In Egypt even the native Chris- 
tians reverence Moslem saints or holy men. They pay 
frequent visits to them to ask for counsel and to hear their 
prophecies, to beg a hair of them in memory, ^^and dying, 
mention it within their wills, bequeathing it as a rich legacy 
unto their issue.” Any relic of a venerated saint is worn 
as a protection from evil. 

Quite apart from Michael’s feeling on the subject as to 
whether this desert fanatic would prove of any real assist- 
ance to him on his journey, he had no inclination to scoff 
at his religious zeal. Were there not St. Jeromes, who lived 
in the desert and trusted to the ravens of the air to feed 
them? Were passions in the desert not known before the 
days of Mohammed? Why should saints no longer exist? 

It seemed to him very wonderful that this semi-conscious 
Arab should have chosen a text from the Koran so singu- 
larly appropriate to his condition. There were hundreds 
of suras familiar to Michael, relating to the benefits to be 
received by the faithful who performed disinterested acts 
of charity. ‘^Do good to the creatures of God, for God 
loves those who do good.” These words came to his mind 
as more suitable, as referring only to his hospitality to the 
fainting wayfarer. Or again, ^^The truly righteous are 
those who, in order to please God, assist their kindred out 
of their wealth, and support the orphans and take care of 
the needy, and give alms to the wayfarer.” 

In the moral conditions of the Koran, there are many 
suras relating to charity, the love which covers a multitude 
of sins. Yet he had told Michael that because of his love 
for one of God’s creatures he would ^^drlnk of a cup tem- 
pered with camphor.” Had the sick man a seer’s vision? 
Had he read the secrets of his, Michael’s, heart? 

Or might it have been that already Abdul had confided to 
him the gossip of the camp? Had his seer’s eyes told him 


230 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


who lay in the white tent, the white tent whose open door 
so persistently invited him to turn in? 

He rejected the idea that the sainPs apt choice of a text 
could have been mere accident. To Michael there was no 
such thing as chance. Nothing is unessential, nothing un- 
foreseen by the All-seeing. 

He spoke to the saint seriously and sympathetically of 
his condition and tried to persuade him that he was too 
weak to travel. He must rest for one whole day, and after 
that he must allow Michael to see him on his journey. To 
Michael’s offer of hospitality and help on his pilgrimage, he 
again answered by quoting the Koran : 

‘Verily to the “favoured of God” no fear shall come, 
nor shall they grieve.’ ” 

His eyes, lit with spiritual fire, expressed his complete 
confidence in divine protection. 

Michael expressed his belief that God did look after those 
who were specially favoured of Him, but he asked if it 
might not be that it was by God’s guidance that he, Mi- 
chael, had been permitted to offer one specially beloved of 
Allah the rest he so greatly needed ? If it was not also de- 
creed by Allah that the saint should remain in his tent un- 
til he was stronger? 

“Whither are you going, O my son? If Allah wills it 
we shall not part.” 

Michael described his geographical destination; he did 
not mention the real mission of his journey, 

“What seek you there, O my son?” 

“The tomb of a holy man.” 

“An infidel or a child of Allah?” 

“Of a prophet, O my father, a prophet to whom God 
revealed Himself even before the days of Moses, a prophet 
born in Egypt, who lost his distant kingdoms to gain his 
own soul.” 

“Your heart is full of charity, O my son. In the name 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 231 

of the Lord, the Compassionate, the Merciful, may the di- 
vine light surround you.” 

^Tf I acknowledge but one God, O my father, and truly 
love Him, I must love all things that He has created, for 
without Him was not anything made that is in heaven or 
on earth.” 

‘‘Truly said, O my son. And praise be to Allah ! you are 
no infidel. You worship but the one God Who is the Lord 
of the worlds. The ignorant infidels — Allah have mercy on 
their souls! — give the Prophet Jesus equal glory with the 
God Almighty, they divide the honours which belong to 
God alone.” 

“There are many seekers after the truth, O my father. 
Are there not many roads to heaven.^” 

“To all who do truly seek the light, God will be revealed 
to them. He will discover them with His mercy. He will 
join them to the companionship on high. God’s mercy ex- 
tends to every sinner. He provides for even those who deny 
Him.” 

The fanatic fell back on his pillow exhausted. Michael 
waited for a moment, until his religious excitement had 
abated. Feebly words came from his parched lips. 

“Great is Thy Name, great is Thy Greatness. There is 
no God but Thee.” 

Michael poured a little moisture down his throat. He 
swallowed it eagerly; his thirst was pathetic. After wait- 
ing for a few minutes beside the silent figure, Michael rose 
to go. One of the servants must come and look after him 
and watch him during the night; he was too ill to be left 
alone. 

Suddenly the saint called to him. ^^Hena (here).” He 
wished Michael to bend his head nearer to his lips ; his voice 
was weak. His splendid eyes glowed with the fire of spir- 
itual triumph. Michael watched him raise his hand up to 
his head. It was for some reason, for it was not without ef- 
fort that he guided his first finger to his fine, delicately- 
shaped. ear, the concha of which was very large. There 


232 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


seemed to be something hidden in it which he was endeavour- 
ing to take out. 

Michael tried to help him. Had he stowed away some 
relic of exceptional value in the opening of his ear, or was 
it giving him pain.? The saint did not answer. Michael 
stood in silence until the thing was extracted. It was a 
little pellet of tissue-paper. 

The saint put his finger to his lips, to caution Michael 
to be silent. With trembling fingers he unwrapped the tiny 
packet. It was so small that probably it contained an atom 
of hair reputed to have been cut from the Prophet’s beard. 

When the object was unrolled, the saint said, 
and tried to reach Michael’s hand. Michael placed his right 
hand in the two emaciated ones of the fanatic. Something 
hard was pressed into his palm, and his fingers were jeal- 
ously folded over a tiny object. When it was safely in his 
keeping, the saint fell back on his pillow, muttering a sura 
from the Koran. 

‘Give your kindred what they require in time of need 
and also to the poor and the traveller, but waste not your 
substance wastefully.’ ” 

Michael opened his hand and looked at what the zealot 
had placed in it. He was thrilled with curiosity to see what 
the precious relic could be. He recognized the greatness 
of the honour which had been bestowed upon him. 

When he saw what it was, he was too astonished to speak. 
Wonder robbed him of words. A crimson amethyst, uncut 
and of ancient smoothness, lay like a large drop of blood in 
his hand. With half-believing eyes he gazed at it. Still in 
silence and with doubting senses, he turned it over with 
the fingers of his left hand. Had the holy man performed 
a miracle.? How could he have become possessed of an an- 
cient gem of such rare beauty and size .? Michael had often 
seen conjurers raise up palm-trees and flowers on the deck 
of a steamer, out of a pot full of sand; a wave of their 
magic wand had transformed the deck of a steamer into a 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 233 

flowery garden. But this poor sick wanderer was no trick- 
ster. 

Michael held up the amethyst to a lamp. It seemed to 
him a stone of great value. As it was uncut, he could only 
judge by its colour. There might be some flaw which he 
could not see. He tried to put it back into the sick man’s 
hands. 

“Keep it, my son, it is safer with you. I could not use it 
for the benefit of mankind, for the wayfarer and the needy, 
and for myself I have no wants which Allah in His mercy 
does not supply. His children suffer no greater privations 
than they can bear.” 

Michael still pressed the jewel back into his hand. He 
could not and would not accept it. At his refusal the fan- 
atic became excited and distressed. 

“It is easy for me, my son, to find many more such jewels, 
and also much fine gold, the pure gold of Ethiopia. Allah 
has had hidden treasures laid up in the desert for such of 
His favoured children as require them.” 

The words came curiously to Michael’s ears, for he had 
in his subconscious mind anticipated them. Yet his mater- 
ial mind regarded them as fantastic imagination due to the 
man’s abnormal condition. The unpolished jewel had prob- 
ably been given to him by a devout Moslem, who imagined 
that he had derived some benefit from a visit which he had 
paid to the saint. His subconscious mind pressed the ques- 
tion: Had this poor creature, dressed in rags, whose fam- 
ished body had fallen in the sands, exhausted by his per- 
petual mortification of the flesh, found Akhnaton’s buried 
treasure.^ Had he resisted the gold and precious jewels 
which he had found there Had he only carried away this 
one crimson amethyst to prove to Michael that his theory 
was correct.? Was it a beautiful link in the long chain of 
ordained events, an act of the divine law.? 

The idea seemed incredible. Yet the saint had spoken 
simply and sincerely, as if he never doubted but that Allah, 


234 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


in His all-seeing mercy, had provided this mine of wealth 
for the use of His favoured. 

Was this gem which the saint had carried in his ear an 
actual and tangible proof of the treasure he was seeking? 
Had the saint actually seen and touched the wealth of gold 
and the jewels which Akhnaton’s hands had hidden in the 
hills near his tomb? Others besides Michael, students of 
Egyptology, had treasured the idea that the heretic King, 
knowing that his days were numbered, and that when he 
was dead everything in his fair city would be stolen and 
desecrated, taken to Thebes and there turned into wealth 
for the gods of Amon, had hid from his enemies his private 
hoard of jewels and gold. 

A glorious excitement overwhelmed Michael. His 
thoughts travelled on the wings of light. But he must 
be practical ; he must determine how it was best to question 
the saint, to gather from him the most helpful information 
on the subject. It would be no easy matter, for it would 
be unwise to express any marked curiosity about the hidden 
treasure or to show his personal desire to find it. 

With great self-control he concealed his intense interest 
and excitement. For the present it was best to let the 
saint’s words about the treasure pass unquestioned. Very 
tactfully and with gentleness he persuaded him to keep the 
amethyst until they parted. In the morning, if he was 
really strong enough to go on his way and if he still wished 
him to accept the gem, he would do so. 

With this the fanatic was contented. He wrapped up 
the gem which had once belonged to the heretic Pharaoh, 
whose one and only God was Aton, and replaced it in its 
strange jewel-case. 

When Michael left the tent where the saint lay, he turned 
his back on the encampment. He wished to be alone. His 
thoughts were bewildering. He turned his back upon the 
encampment because the crouching man in him knew that 
in the camp was the white tent of the woman. If he passed 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 235 

it, would the primitive man in him spring up and force him 
to turn in? 

‘‘Turn in, turn in, my lord, and he did turn in.” How 
the words had kept ringing in his ears. 

Alone in the desert he must drink of the cup tempered 
with camphor. Henceforth his one thought and object 
must be the finding of the treasure he had journeyed thus 
far to discover. The saint’s news had so excited him that 
he wished that he could waken all the sleeping servants and 
order Abdul to begin their journey. Action would drive 
the white tent and its persistent call out of his mind. The 
sky was so light that they could easily see to travel. 

His nerves chafed at the unnecessary delay. And yet he 
must not hurry, for his mind foresaw great difficulty, even 
in the matter of persuading the holy man to travel with 
them. 

The seer at el-Azhar had promised him that a “child of 
God” would lead him. If he waited and trusted and just 
let things take their course, all things would come right. 
Haste comes of the devil — a true Eastern proverb, a warn- 
ing far too little regarded by the Western children of 
speed. But his conscience rebuked him. Had he verily 
been one of those who do deeds of real kindness? Was he 
worthy to drink of the cup tempered with camphor? Had 
his deed been sincerely inspired by disinterested love to- 
wards his fellow-beings? Had it not been so mingled and 
mixed up with his anxiety to find the hidden treasure that 
he had gladly seized the opportunity of offering help to the 
wayfarer, hoping that he might prove to be the very child 
of God who was to guide him to the secret spot? 

Yet surely, in doing this deed of kindness, even though it 
was affected by self-interest, he had already drunk of the 
cup tempered with camphor? The desires of his frail hu- 
man flesh, desires which had had their renaissance since 
Millicent’s appearance, were they quite banished ? Had the 
woman in her white tent meant nothing to him? As if in 


236 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


contradiction to his words, he flung himself on the sand. A 
voice cried within him. 

What was he to do with the woman ? Oh, God, what was 
he to do with her.^ Spiritually he emptied his arms of her 
and flung her far from him on the sands. All day her pres- 
ence had been too near him — oh, God, far too near! She 
was there in her tent, a beautiful vision. Her eyes, as 
violet as the night sky, invited him. Her voice, soft with 
love, wooed him. It cried again and again : ‘‘Turn in, my 
lord, turn in !” 

His knowledge of the East told him that the whole camp 
expected him to visit the white tent that liight. He was 
no St. Anthony in their eyes, resisting his temptation. 

For one moment his mind enjoyed the satisfaction of her 
beauty. The cup tempered with camphor was rudely 
dashed from his lips. Some unseen hand had offered him 
instead the deep red wine of passion. With the sudden 
violence of a southern wind gathering swiftly over the 
desert, his emotions were tossed and driven. As the sands 
lift and rise from the flatness of the desert into one obliter- 
ating column before the traveller’s eyes, so had his vision of 
the woman obliterated every other thought from his mind. 
In the limitless desert there was nothing but the one white 
tent of the woman. 

In his vision he saw the crimson amethyst hanging from 
a chain round her neck. On her white breast it lay like a 
full drop of pigeon’s blood. Where had this idea come 
from.^ Unsought, undesired, what had forced it with mer- 
ciless vividness before his eyes.?^ What part of him re- 
sponded to her caresses of thanks.? What had Akhnaton’s 
jewel to do with his profane vision.? 

St. Anthony had never deserved his temptation less. 
With the distant glimpse of the white tent which he had 
caught on his way from the sick man, desire had stormed 
the citadel of his soul. Its hidden forces had surprised and 
overwhelmed the unsuspecting Michael. It held him in its 
grip. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 237 

In his agony of spirit he cried aloud. ‘‘Margaret ! Mar- 
garet ! Margaret, if you love me, come to me !” 

He pressed his body more closely to the desert sand. Let 
the great Mother Earth enfold him. 

With all the stars in the heavens shining down upon him, 
and the clear sky purifying a world of desolation, Michael 
lay purging his mind, cleansing his heart. The white tent 
became very distant, a mere speck on his mental horizon. 

Suddenly his senses became alert ; he felt a presence very 
close to him. No footfall on the sand had warned him that 
he was no longer alone ; he was simply conscious that some 
one was standing by his side. He jumped up, anxious to 
see who it was; he had been lying face downwards on the 
sand. No one was there. He listened. Surely he had not 
been mistaken? Someone had touched him gently with 
their hands, some presence had come quite close to him. He 
was conscious that a feeling of peace had come to him, as if 
virtue had passed into him from those unseen hands. Then 
suddenly he knew that Margaret was beside him ; they were 
standing together as they had stood together on the night 
when they plighted their troth. He could hear her saying, 
“I have come to you, Mike. You called me and so I came.” 
He could feel the divine beauty of her passion, the exquisite 
wonder of her love. Her presence was as real and helpful 
to him as though his arms encircled her material body. 

In the midst of his happiness a sense of shame over- 
whelmed him. Margaret had come to him because she un- 
derstood; his sense of shame evoked her sympathy. He 
heard her say, “But Mike, I shall understand. I think 
something outside myself will help me to understand.” 

He could see her starlit face. He remembered how he 
had turned it up to the heavens and said, “You beautiful 
Meg, the stars adore you!” His own words rang in his 
ears. 

She had come to help him to make his love for her still 
more complete. She was with him still. He enfolded her 
in his arms and wept out his passion on her breast. 


238 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


CHAPTER V 

‘‘Let’s begin where we left off yesterday, Mike,” Milli- 
cent said. 

They had finished their lunch and were sitting in the 
desert watching the “common or garden” day’s idleness of 
the inhabitants of a Bedouin camp. The tents were hud- 
dled together under the shade of some feathery-leaved palm- 
trees, a typical desert homestead. 

They had made a short excursion from the site of their 
own camp, for the sick man’s condition had necessitated 
their halting for at least one whole day. 

Subtly conscious of the fact that Satan finds some mis- 
chief even in the desert for idle hands to do, Michael had 
suggested a picnic to a small oasis which lay to the west of 
their route. Millicent and her dragoman and her servants 
still formed a part of his camp; her splendid supply of 
food and medicines was so valuable for the saint that Mi- 
chael’s silent consent to her presence had been given. 
Again he was drifting. 

“Let us return to where we left off yesterday,” referred 
to her suggestion of the evening before that they should 
tell each other of the most English thing they could im- 
agine, things seen in England as in comparison to things 
seen in Egypt. 

It was a typically Eastern scene which lay before them — 
the yellow sands of the Arabian desert, the dark palm-trees 
and the picturesque Bedouins idling under the shelter of the 
palms. Not one of the group was occupied. Some goats 
and a great number of naked children were lying about on 
the sand. The purple shadows of the palm-trees intensified 
the bareness of the sunny desert. 

One little figure, with a very protruding stomach, and a 
very large white metal disc on her dark chest for her only 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


239 


article of attire, suddenly appeared in front of them. Si- 
lently she had risen up out of the hot sand at their feet. 
Her big eyes stared at the two strange beings whom she 
had been brave enough to approach. When Millicent spoke 
to her she screamed and flew back to her mother’s side. The 
woman looked like a man, clean-limbed and as tanned as 
leather. Her tent was supported by two sticks ; to enter it 
she had to bend almost double. 

The naked child had appeared so suddenly and it had 
run away so swiftly, that Millicent laughed like a child. It 
really was a delicious bit of nature. The metal disc shone 
like a small sun. 

‘What a ‘tummy’ !” she said. Her laughter was con- 
tagious. “Just like a baby blackbird’s before it has got 
its feathers. And that big silver disc! — like the family 
plate on the family chest.” 

“It’s protection from all evil, poor wee mite.” 

“What a filthy-looking hovel,” Millicent said. “Worse 
than a gipsy-tent in England.” 

“And yet it’s a home,” Michael said. “And there are 
no more passionate lovers of home than these tent-women, 
or more hospitable people.” 

“Do these date-trees bear fruit Millicent asked the 
practical question irrelevantly. Her mind was charged with 
new interests, while her eyes looked at the soaring trees. 
The tent-dwellers interested her. She would like to have 
questioned them about all sorts of intimate subjects. 

“Rather ! These people pay taxes, too.” 

“Really ? Isn’t there any spot on the globe where people 
can just live as they like, where they can get away from 
income-tax and authorities 

“I don’t know if the Bedouins pay any tent-taxes, but I 
suppose that if they didn’t aspire to owning date-palms, 
they could live in the arid desert without paying anybody 
anything. It’s the old, old, unchanging subject — water.” 

Millicent lapsed into silence. Her chin was resting on her 
hands ; she was lying face downwards on the sand. Michael 


240 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


was resting beside her. Hassan and a few servants they 
had taken with them to attend to their picnic-lunch were 
fast asleep. The camels and mules made a picturesque note 
in the distance. On Millicent’s camel a pale blue sheepskin 
rug covered the fine saddle; it looked like a patch of the 
heavens dropped down to earth. 

‘T know what is the most English thing I can think of,” 
she said, “the most English thing compared to all this 
Easternness — how I adore it, Mike!” 

“The English thing you’ve thought of, or the Eastem- 
ness ?” 

“Oh, the Easternness. England’s placid and fat and 
bountiful, but all this throbbing emptiness 1” 

“Tell me your English scene,” he said. Something in 
Millicent’s eyes drove him into speech. He, too, knew the 
throbbing silence, the solitude that thunders, the emptiness 
that is full of passion. 

“Well, first look at that tent and at those lazy, straight, 
brown-limbed women — they are just a bit of nature. Sum- 
mer and winter, autumn and spring, will never change the 
scene. Look at that ocean of sand, and the moving heat, 
passing like a wave over the desert. Take off your blue 
glasses, Mike, and dare to look at the sun. Face your great 
God Aton — look Him in the face.” 

Michael was silent, but he took off his blue glasses. He 
w^as no eagle; his eyes shrank from the world of blinding, 
unlimited light. 

“Now visualize a wee robin ^flirting,’ as Wells says, across 
a green English lawn.” 

The suggestion called up a thousand memories. A cloud 
of home-sickness dimmed the brightness of the sun. Mi- 
chael could see a green, green lawn and the figure of his 
mother busy at her fiower-beds; the robin’s flirting was 
growing bolder ; it was peeping up into her very face ! The 
smell of moisture came to his nostrils. 

“Nothing is more English than an English robin, Mike ! 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 241 

In the autumn, when it comes near the house, what a darling 
it is — so well-turned-out, so fearless of humans !” 

‘‘Nothing,^’ Mike said, ‘^unless it’s my mother herself, in 
her gardening gloves, cutting off the dead heads from the 
rose-beds.” 

“But she’s Irish!” 

“Well, I meant British. When you said things seen in 
England I visualized my robin in Ireland, juicy, green, 
luscious Ireland!” 

“Tell me about Ireland,” Millicent said lightly. As she 
spoke, she made a hole in the sand ; she pushed her hand and 
wrist into it — her gloves were off. She drove it in still 
further, until her elbow ojily was above the sand ; her arm 
was buried in the desert. 

“Take care of sand-flies,” Michael said. Millicent’s 
sleeve was rolled up. 

“Are there any here.^^ I’ve not been troubled with them.” 

“No, probably not — they are the plague of Upper 
Egypt.” 

“They were awful at Assuan. It’s awfully hot, Mich- 
ael!” Millicent referred to the sand. She withdrew her 
arm. “Give me your hand — just feel it.” She pulled up 
his sleeve and took his hand. She held it in her own and 
thrust it into the hot, soft sand. With her free hand she 
pulled up her own sleeve and Michael’s so as to allow their 
arms to sink still further into the sand ; they were bare to 
the elbow. Her wrist and the palm of her hand were 
pressed close to Michael’s. Suddenly her hand ceased bor- 
ing; she remained still, her soft fingers embracing Mich- 
ael’s. Her eyes sought his. He read their invitation. 

“It’s only our hands, Michael — let them rest.” Her 
fingers tightened round his as she spoke; her eyes chal- 
lenged him. At the challenge his pulses leapt, his hand 
ceased to resist. For two days he had been playing with 
fire. In the wilderness that surrounded them what waters 
would quench its leaping flames? 

Millicent’s soft arm lay with his; it was human and 

16 


242 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


caressing. Then a fear came to him, bom of a sudden in- 
tense hatred. She was such a little thing. He could 
strangle her, crush her to atoms. That was the way to put 
an end to it all. 

The next moment Millicent was alarmed, terribly fright- 
ened. She was in Michael’s arms. He was crushing her, 
crushing her to atoms. It was not a lover’s embrace; it 
was the mad fury of a roused mystic. Would he crush her 
until he killed her? 

‘‘Don’t, Mike, you’ll choke me! You are choking me 
now. Do you want to kill me ?^^ 

“I could,” he said. “And I’d like to!” He flung her 
from him on the soft sand. “Go a^way,” he said. “Leave me 
and my camp for good and all!” His words were broken, 
mere breathless ejaculations. His eyes made a coward of 
the reckless woman, but she collected her quick wits. 

She lay where he had flung her. She was not hurt or 
even stunned, but she knew that if she lay there in the posi- 
tion in which he had flung her, presently he would come 
to her and ask her if he had been too brutal. She traded 
on his tenderness to women, his horror of inflicting pain. 

She lay motionless, the blue sky above her, the yellow 
sands stretching to the far-off horizon. She had tempted 
him willingly, deliberately. Something had compelled her 
to test her power. Her annoyance at his apparent indiffer- 
ence to her presence had become too poignant to hide any 
longer. Anger was exhausting her nerves. She was con- 
scious that she had burnt her boats, that her tactics were 
at fault. 

Michael did not look at her. He was conscious of noth- 
ing in the world but an unbearable contempt for his own 
manhood. Why had he not driven her away long before 
this.^ Why had he silently acquiesced to her companion- 
ship? 

Despising her as he did, why was she able to lower him 
in his own eyes? Why did he tolerate l\er? Why had she 
any qualities which appealed to him? Why, oh why was 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


243 


she just what she was? He hated her at the moment, but 
he hated himself still more. When they got back to the 
camp he would tell Hassan that their ways must lie apart. 
And now, at this very instant, he would go and tell her 
that she must leave ; he must have it out with her. 

He went to her and stooped over her. ^^Millicent,” he 
said, ‘T want to speak to you.” 

^Wes, Mike.” 

^‘Get up and look at me. I want you to listen.” 

Still Millicent lay perfectly motionless. am listen- 
ing.” 

He knelt down beside her. ^^Have I hurt you ?” 

A little groan was all her answer. Michael turned her 
face to his. His hands were on her shoulders. She winced. 

“Have I hurt you? I am sorry. I was too rough.” 

Millicent raised herself to her knees. Her face was tense, 
agonized. She put her hands up to her head and held it. 
Michael thought he heard a sob. Shame or pain convulsed 
her body; she rocked herself backwards and forwards. 

“I am sorry I was so brutal,” he said. “But you de- 
served it. I had to do it. I always have to be unkind — 
you are so foolish.” 

Still Millicent wept. She removed her hands and gazed 
at him with wet, mournful eyes. Michael put his arm round 
her and tried to raise her. 

“You were very naughty — why were you so naughty?” 

One of his arms was supporting her as she struggled to 
her feet. The next instant Millicent swung herself nimbly 
round and flung herself on his breast. He was helpless. 
Her hands were clasped behind his 'head. 

“You wanted to kill me, Mike.” Her fingers slipped 
round his throat. “And now I should like to kill you, yes, 
kill you ! Strangle you and leave your austere, ascetic body 
for the vultures to enjoy!” 

Mike tried to ^hake her off, to unclasp her hands. She 
was as strong as a young leopard. 

“I would,” she said. “For I hate you and despise you !” 


244 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


“Then leave me,” he said. “I wish to God you would !” 

“Ah, but I won’t!” The cry came from Millicent sav- 
agely. “I won’t leave you, not until my will has sub- 
jected yours ! Before I leave your camp you will have been 
my lov^r — mystic, aesthetic, dreamer, drifter I” 

“Never!” Michael said. “Never, never that!” 

Still Millicent clung to him. Her angry words blew her 
hot breath over his cheeks. 

“You are not altogether the ascetic or the saint you ap- 
pear to be. You have scorned my love. I will break your 
will. I will humble you in your own fine estimation of 
yourself. When I take it into my head to do a thing, I 
generally accomplish it.” 

Michael disengaged her hands with a tremendous wrench. 
If he hurt her thumbs he could not help it. He held her 
from him at arm’s length and shook her, shook her as 
though she was a naughty child in a paroxysm of passion 
which had to be subdued by extreme severity. 

“You little devil!” he said. “You’ll leave my camp at 
once, this very day ! I’ve had more than enough of you !” 

Millicent’s eyes, as unflinching as Michael’s, laughed tri- 
umphantly. 

“What about my food and medicine for your sick man, 
your valuable guide to the hidden treasure You can’t af- 
ford to let him slip through your hands !” 

Michael’s eyes dropped. He had allowed Millicent to 
remain unquestioned, even willingly, as a member of his ex- 
pedition, since the sick man was in need of the delicate 
food and medicine her equipment contained. 

As his eyes dropped, he asked her what she knew about 
the hidden treasure. He had only told her about the tomb 
of Akhnaton; he had particularly refrained from mention- 
ing the Pharaoh’s hidden store. 

“How did I get to know all I wanted to know?” She 
glanced at him tauntingly. “It wasn’t quite all my love 
for you, dear man ! Perhaps I, too, wished to pick up some 
of the jewels in King Solomon’s Mines !” 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 245 

never mentioned them to you — what do you know 
about them?” 

‘‘What about the precious jewel in the saint’s ear — ^the 
oriental amethyst, the ninth jewel in the high priest’s 
breast-plate, as mentioned in Exodus, ‘and the third row a 
ligure, an agate, and an amethyst’?” Millicent trilled off 
the text laughingly. 

“You have stooped to spying,” he said. “You have an 
eavesdropper in your camp?” 

“ ‘Verily those who do deeds of real goodness shall drink 
of a cup tempered with camphor’! Well, is it tempered 
enough, Michael?” She laughed mockingly, derisively. 
“Was the deed pure goodness? Was this fanatic not the 
‘favoured of God’ who was to lead you to Akhnaton’s 
treasure?” 

“Go 1” he cried. “I have heard enough !” 

“And take all my provisions and medicines with me!” 

“We must do the best we can for him without your lux- 
uries, if you have no mercy, no heart for the suffering.” 

“And how are you going to get rid of me?” 

“You are going. I don’t know how, but you’re going.” 

“What if*I refuse to go?” 

“You won’t.” 

Millicent laughed. 

“You won’t,” he repeated. “You must go. You can’t 
stay.” 

“And why ?” 

“Because. . . Michael hesitated. “Because . . « . 
you know . . . you know why . . . you know, what you 
have just said.” 

“Because you are afraid you will end by being my lover?” 

“No. Because I wish to be free of spies and hindrances.” 

“Then I do hinder? You know my spying has not hurt 
you !” Her eyes glowed. 

Michael gazed sternly into them. He never lied. With 
him the truth was instinctive, masterful ; it was the keynote 
of his religion. “Yes,” he said. “You are a spiritual hind- 


M6 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


ranee. I am a human man — ^you are a sensual woman. 
You have determined to do everything in your power to 
keep me ever mindful of the fact. Because I love Margaret 
Lampton and I do not love you, you have determined to 
make me unworthy of her, you have trapped me and tricked 
me and followed me into the wilderness.’’ 

‘‘You must admit I managed that part of the job very 
neatly.” Millicent’s words were brave, but a little fear had 
crept into her heart. Michael was in no mood for trifling. 
Her game was lost. 

‘^How did you do it.^^” he said. His hands tightened; 
they held her shoulders. The gentle aesthetic was a furious 
Celt. He wished that it was a man with whom he was deal- 
ing. _ 

Still Millicent was brave, her voice scornful. ‘^Baksheesh 
— the moving finger in the East.” 

‘^You contemptible creature!” he said. “Who did you 
pay ?” 

“That would be telling.” 

“I know it would,” he said. “And you are going to tell 
me.” He held her with painful firmness. 

Millicent’s courage gave way. Michael’s eyes alarmed 
her. Something in them warned her that, once roused, he 
was a dangerous man to trifle with. There is not an im- 
measurable distance between the mystic and the madman. 
The pressure of his fingers on her shoulders warned her of 
his strength ; his thumb was like a turnscrew. 

“Who did you pay.?” he asked. “Tell me, or you will 
regret it.” His grasp became an agony. 

“Mohammed Ali,” Millicent murmured. “He show^ed 
me Margaret’s diary.” 

Michael groaned. “You little beast!” he cried. “You 
mean little beast !” 

Millicent burst into a flood of weeping. She knew that it 
was her only chance, a woman’s deadliest weapon with such 
a man. “I loved you so ! Oh, Mike, I loved you so ! Can’t 
you understand.? Is there no humanity in you? Is your 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


247 


nature so devoid of passion, of human love, that you can’t 
understand the mad heights and the depths it can lead you 
to? I have never been given the chance of rising to the 
heights.” 

Mike heard her sobs. He saw her beautiful body con- 
vulsed with anguish. The real woman was there at his feet, 
a weak creature, whose love for himself had driven her to do 
these deeds he despised. He felt that he was in a manner 
to blame; for him she had sunk to this degradation. 

am so ashamed, Mike, but for days my shame has been 
drowned in anger. I followed you and trapped you and 
spied upon you.” She looked up pleadingly. “And I’d 
do it all over again, even worse, Mike, I know I would, even 
though I am despicable in my own eyes.” 

“Don’t!” he said. “It has become 2, madness with you, 
an obsession.” 

“Love is a madness,” she said. “It is an obsession. It 
is devouring me. No one can judge of its power until 
they have felt it.” 

He sat down beside her. “Millicent,” he said gently, 
“have you ever thought of praying, of asking for help?” 
He paused. “You poor, poor soul, have you ever in your 
life tried to reach your higher self, to get away from all 
this?” 

“No, never.” The words came frankly. “First let me 
enjoy this human love, Michael.” Her eyes pleaded. 
“Then I may try to be as you are, but not till then.” 

“It would be no enjoyment,” he said. “Only a hideous 
mockery, a wilful lowering of your better self.” 

“Not of my better self, Mike — not really. I might rise 
to higher things afterwards, with that one beautiful mem- 
ory to help me, an Eden in the desert.” Her voice was 
humble ; her eyes swam with tears — a beautiful Magdalen. 

“Poor little soul !” he said. “Poor little Millicent !” 

“Yes, Mike, poor little soul, poor lonely soul!” 

“I wish I could do something to help you, show you that 


248 THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 

there is a higher, stronger support than any poor love of 
mine.” 

“But I don’t want it — at least, not now. It doesn’t 
appeal to me. I don’t want it, for if I tried to be better, 
I’d have to try to kill my desire for you, and even if it 
gives me no happiness. I’d rather have it than kill it. I 
couldn’t relinquish it. It would be giving up the only 
thing I have of you — my poor, unwanted wanting of you.” 

“What can I say? What can I do.^” Michael was in 
despair. “How can I help you.^^” 

This humble, tearful Millicent made him wretched. He 
felt guilty and unkind. He was the innocent cause of her 
unhappiness. It was not possible to be human and remain 
untouched by her passion for himself. Yet he knew that 
he must not allow her to know that, or how his heart ached 
for her. Her spiritual loneliness horrified him. She had 
absolutely nothing to turn to, nothing to rely upon. Her 
religious observances were mere conventional occupations. 
And yet mixed up in the woman there was a mental quality 
very rare and sympathetic, a strange fitful brilliance, ex- 
tremely pleasing. Once or twice on their journey she had 
expressed the peculiar quality of the scenery in words which 
were not far off prose poems. It had puzzled him to know 
how her intellectual refinement could dwell in the same tem- 
ple as her low characteristics. 

“I don’t know, Mike.” Her voice was very gentle. “I 
don’t see how you can help me.” 

“I can pray,” he said. “I will pray. Perhaps that is 
where I have been to blame. I have left you out of my 
prayers.” 

Millicent looked at him. Her eyes questioned. 

“I have thought only of myself, my own safety, the 
keeping of my thoughts pure and true to Meg, my fight 
for self-control.” 

“Oh, Mike!” Millicent’s voice was crushed, envious. 

“I should have tried to help you as well. We can all help 
each other by prayers and thoughts and beliefs, belief in 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 249 

the kingdom of God which is in us. I behaved as if you 
were not divine, Millicent.’’ 

‘T’m not. How can I be divine? I am absolutely world- 
ly — I’ve no^^ish for your divine love !” 

^^Divinity is in you,” he said. ^Tt is yours, you cannot 
get away from it.” He paused. “You were ashamed just 
now — that was the light which cannot be put out. Now, 
every day, I will try to be less selfish, I will pray for you. 
Prayer will help to bring you into the light. Soon you will 
begin to peep into the kingdom of God which is in you. 
You will see how wonderful it is. Love will hold out its 
arms to you from every passing cloud, from every corner 
of the wilderness. I am to blame, for I only tried to banish 
you, instead of helping you. I must begin to-day. We 
must all help each other by our thoughts as well as by our 
actions. Do you understand? I, who ought to have known 
better, have failed.” 

Millicent took his hand and raised it to her lips. “Why 
should God have so blessed Margaret Lampton?” she said. 
“She is your ^guarded lady,’ as Hassan would say.” 

“When you know her better, you will see that it is not 
Meg, but I, who have been blessed, I who have reason to 
be thankful. Margaret’s thoughts constantly reach me; 
they have helped me over and over again.” 

“Will you forgive me, Mike?” 

“Of course I will,” he said. “Else how could I help 
you.?” 

“It’s your very goodness I love, Michael. I realize that. 
And yet how horribly I have tried to spoil it !” 

“We are going to start afresh, we understand each 
other.” He looked at her with sincere eyes. “Isn’t that 
so? Do you want me for your friend, Millicent?” 

“More than anything in the world • . • except . • 
she paused. “ . . . except ...” 

His eyes held hers ; they became stem. “We have settled 
all that. You know now that it can never be, and if I am 


250 THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


to be your friend, you must forget all that you have ever 
said.” 

“Yes, yes — the crumbs, Mike, they are sweeter than 
nothing.” 

“My help,” he said, “and sympathy — that is what I can 
give you.” 

“And may I remain in your camp for a little while?” 

“No.” His voice was firm. “We must part. But that 
will make no difference. I will help you, I promise. I can 
help you as Margaret helps me.” 

Millicent made no demur. It was useless. “Will the 
saint be well enough to travel to-morrow, do you think?” 

“I don’t know. His headache was better this morning. 
If he can retain some food, he may soon pick up.” 

“And you will go on to Akhnaton’s tomb?” Millicent 
did not refer to the buried treasure. 

“Whenever he is better.” Michael looked at his watch. 
“We had better be going back,” he said. “I want to make 
preparations.” 

“And I am to return to civilization !” 

Michael did not answer. He called Hassan. “We are 
ready, Hassan,” he said. 

In a short time they were off. 

Before mounting her camel Millicent said : “Thank you, 
Michael. I don’t deserve your kindness.” 

On their homeward journey Michael’s heart held many 
a prayer. He was no longer merely to turn this woman out 
of his thoughts, to thrust her behind him, a thing of Satan. 
He was to help her. He was to help her until such a time as 
she could help herself. He was to bring her mind to the 
consciousness of the truth. He was to reveal to her, by his 
prayers, what Akhnaton taught his people — that God is 
happiness, God is beauty, God is Love. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


251 


CHAPTER VI 

It was close upon sundown when Michael and Millicent got 
back to the camp. Abdul had come a little way to meet 
them. To an observant eye, the calm of his Eastern coun- 
tenance showed some anxiety. Millicent did not see it. 
Michael was riding on ahead when Abdul met him. Abdul 
turned his mule and rode by his master’s side. 

‘‘You have something to tell me, Abdul 

^^Aiwah, EfFendi, I have something to tell you.” 

They increased the space between themselves and the 
camels which were following them in Indian file. Abdul 
spoke in Arabic, as he always did to his master. When he 
had confided his secret to Michael he lapsed into silence. 
The EfFendi looked very grave. The news was far from 
pleasant. 

“You need not tell Madam,” Michael said. “Not until 
you are quite sure, Abdul. It will only alarm her.” 

^^Aiwah, EfFendi, I gave it to your ears alone.” 

“How is he.?” Michael referred to the saint. 

“His temperature has fallen — ^head no longer aches. 
That is always the case.” 

“You have done all that is necessary.?” 

“All I could do, Effendi. Madam has good medicines, 
praise be to Allah! We can be hopeful.” 

They rode on to the camp in silence. Michael’s thoughts 
were busy. What would Millicent say.? Would she be 
afraid.? The idea was not pleasant. 

When they had dismounted Michael went at once to see 
the saint and Millicent hurried ofF to her tent to change 
her dusty garments for daintier ones. She was still peni- 
tent and half-ashamed. Who knows but that Michael’s ef- 
forts to help her were already beginning to bear fruit? 
If thoughts can purify, Millicent’s heart should have been 


252 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


as fair as a white lotus flower whose roots are in the mud. 
Michael’s thoughts had baptized it. 

When she had tidied up and was beautifully fresh in her 
snow-white muslin frock, she went outside and waited for 
the dinner-gong to sound. Even that item of civilization 
had not been forgotten — it is true it was only a drum, an 
earthen darabukkeh, but it filled its purpose well. Its dull 
thud, thud, had scarcely ceased vibrating the air when 
Michael appeared. As he came towards her, Millicent went 
to meet him. He had not yet changed his day clothes. 

‘‘Don’t come near me!” he called out. “Not any 
further.” 

“Why not.^^” Millicent said. “What’s the matter? Are 
you stricken with the plague?” She spoke laughingly. 

Michael stopped within a few feet of her. “Perhaps I 
am stricken with the smallpox,” he said. “The saint has 
got it — it may be of a very malignant order. We don’t 
know.” 

Every vestige of colour left Millicent’s face. She felt 
sick. “And you have been to him? You touched him!” 

“Of course. I wished to judge for myself. There is no 
doubt about it.” 

“M-i-c-h-a-e-1 !” The word was a long-drawn-out ex- 
pression of horror. A wave of inexpressible terror and dis- 
gust overwhelmed Millicent; she could scarcely speak or 
move. “You knew, and yet you went to him. How could 
you, oh, how could you?” 

He scarcely heard her. “These natives who have never 
been vaccinated take it very badly. Smallpox is a scourge 
with all Africans, from the north to the south.” 

Millicent’s mind was now working furiously. She did not 
wish to let Michael see how horrified she was, or how angry. 

“Go and change,” she said. “Go at once. Get Abdul to 
disinfect you — I brought any amount of stuffs.” 

“Oh, I’m all right — I’m not afraid. I was with him for 
a long time last night. If I’m going to take it, the mis- 
chief’s done.” 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


253 


Millicent’s quick mind travelled. Michael had been with 
this sick saint the night before. He, Michael, might be a 
carrier of the disease, even if he were immune from it him- 
self. And she had been fool enough to throw herself into 
his arms! Oh, what a fool! She might even now be in- 
cubating the horrible, loathsome disease. She was soul- 
sick. Her fear and rage were inseparable. But she must, 
of course, make a good show. 

‘^Never mind, Mike, about last night. Probably the dis- 
ease was not at such an infectious stage as it is now — ^you 
may not have contracted it. Take what precautions you 
can — go quickly and disinfect yourself. Are you really 
sure it’s smallpox.^” She said the last words with a shud- 
der. “Ugh ! it’s horrible !” 

“Yes,” Michael said. “The spots have appeared on his 
wrists and at the back of his neck. Abdul knows the beastly 
disease only too well — the vomiting and the headaches and 
the fall in the temperature. It appears that he told Abdul 
that he had been very, very sick for some days before we 
met him. But malaria might have accounted for the sick- 
ness — and the headaches. No one could have diagnosed it 
until the spots appeared. Abdul’s not to blame.” 

“What are you going to do.?^” Millicent said. “Stick 
to him ? I suppose you will !” she shivered. 

“I will isolate his tent. I can’t go on and leave him here, 
if you mean that.” 

“Oh, you’re crazy! Think of Margaret, if you won’t 
think of yourself!” 

“She wouldn’t have me do it.” 

“Leave one or two of the men behind with him. It’s 
absurd, running such a risk. He will probably die, in any 
case.” 

“When I needed his help I meant to stick to him. When 
he now needs mine, am I to desert him? You said my good- 
ness was not disinterested. It was not, but I can’t stoop to 
that.” 


254 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


“If these Moslems really think he’s a saint, they’ll nurse 
him faithfully. I’ll pay them what they ask — anything.” 

“Money isn’t everything, Millicent — surely you know 
that.?” 

“It can do a great deal. If you hadn’t met him, he’d 
have died.” 

“But I have met him. Doesn’t that show that I am en- 
trusted with his welfare.?” 

“A chance meeting.” 

“That absurd word! By chance you mean such a big 
thing that your mind can’t imagine it! You choose to 
call a link in the Divine Chain chance! the Chance which 
gives life, the Master of that which is ordained, you mean !” 

“You can’t nurse him, you can’t do anything more for 
him than see that he has all that he wants. ‘The faithful’ 
will carry out your instructions. Do be practical, reason- 
able.” 

“It’s no use, Millicent, I can’t leave him. I won’t.” 
Michael shivered. “It’s chilly. Let’s go and eat our din- 
ner.” 

“You must change first — I insist. It’s only right to 
others.” 

“Then don’t wait for me.” 

“Oh yes, I will. Only be quick.” Millicent knew that 
she was too sick with fear to eat and enjoy the excellent 
dinner which had been prepared for them. As she waited 
for Michael, she cursed her own folly, her own abominable 
bad luck. If Michael was a carrier, she had no chance, un- 
less she was one of those rare people who are immune from 
the disease. She did not think she was, because when she 
was last vaccinated, when she was fifteen, she had been very, 
very ill and sick. She felt physically tired, for her brain 
was quick. It was imagining horrible things. She was 
visualizing her own beauty spoilt, her fair skin deeply 
pitted with pock-marks, her colour all gone. The disease 
would take the glitter from her hair, the glow from her 
personality. She knew the result of smallpox. She saw 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 255 

herself, a little, washed-out, yellow-skinned woman, with 
weak eyes and drab-coloured hair. 

Oh, why had she ever called Michael’s attention to the 
saint If he had not gone to his rescue, he would have 
died where he fell, bathed in the blood-red light of the after- 
glow. Why had Michael been such a fool as to touch him 
and nurse him.^ Had she not warned him that the fanatic 
was filthy and probably infectious? And, to make matters 
still worse, to leave no room for chance, she had of her own 
will flung herself into Michael’s arms ! Her determination 
to subject his will to hers, to triumph over Margaret, had 
brought her to this! Michael was further from her than 
ever. She had disgusted him ; his only thought of her now 
was his desire to make her as religious as himself. She had 
to admit her defeat. 

And this was how it had ended 1 Michael, the mystic, the 
quixotic idiot, had taken into his camp a creature sick 
with smallpox, and she, Millicent, had probably contracted 
it by her act of rashness ! The desert seemed scarcely large 
enough to hold her anger. It stifled and exhausted her. 

During dinner very little was spoken between the two, for 
Millicent was devastated by her own terrors and Michael 
was making plans for the sick man’s isolation. His tent 
must remain where it was, while Michael’s own, and the 
servants’, except those inhabited by the men who wished 
to nurse the saint, must be moved to a safe distance. Mil- 
licent’s going was driven from his mind. 

Millicent was thankful that Michael did not notice how 
little she ate at dinner. The servant did ; nothing passes 
a native’s eye. He knew the woman’s terror. 

Soon after their coffee was served they separated, Milli- 
cent going to her own tent and Michael to consult with 
Abdul. When Millicent reached her tent and managed to 
compose her mind, she sent for Hassan. Half an hour later 
he left her. He had much to do. The Sitt^s orders were 
comprehensive. 


256 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


Michael went early to bed. He was very tired. At about 
two o’clock in the morning he stirred in his sleep. Was he 
hearing the distant sound of camels roaring, or was he 
dreaming.^ He was too lazy to find out. If there were 
jackals prowling about, the night-guards would see to 
them. IJndoubtedly something had disturbed him, for as 
a rule he slept without moving the long night through. 

Conscious of feeling deliciously sleepy and totally indif- 
ferent to anything but his own comfort, he soon fell asleep 
again. In his dreams he heard again the liquid sound of 
bells — mule bells and camel bells — growing fainter and 
•fainter as the animals travelled into the distance. 

In the morning, when he awoke, it was with a new light- 
ness of spirit and refreshed vitality. A sense of freedom 
exalted him, a subconscious freedom, which had been absent 
for some days. The glory of the desert called to him. He 
felt spiritually and physically vitalized. 

Even the recollection of the nature of the saint’s illness 
did not damp his spirits. He would recover with careful 
nursing, and when he was better they would go on their way 
rejoicing. The Promised Land seemed nearer. 

It was scarcely time for his early cup of tea, yet he saw 
Abdul bringing it. Perhaps the joy of life had waked him, 
too, perhaps he also was eager to get up and greet the 
morn. What a wonderful morning it was ! All pure, cool, 
clear sunlight. Michael’s heart, a throbbing organ of 
praise, sent forth a paean to the pagan skies. 

“Is the Effendi awake.? May his servant enter.?” 

“Yes, Abdul, come in.” 

Abdul entered with the noiseless movements of his race. 
As he stood by his master’s bed, Michael saw that the un- 
emotional native was attempting to hide his anger. Some- 
thing had greatly upset him. 

“What is it, Abdul.? Has anyone been unkind to the 
saint.?” 

^^Aiwah, Effendi, it is not that.” Abdul spoke lengthily 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 257 

and in the correct Arabic fashion. He must not approach 
the subject too quickly. 

‘^Tell me,” Michael said. ^^What troubles you, Abdul.?” 

^^Amahy Effendi, the honourable Sitt has left you. She 
has gone — there is no trace of her camp.” 

^^What.?” Michael jumped out of bed. ‘^The Sitt has 
gone.^ No sign of her camp.?” 

^‘Aimahy Effendi, that is so. Your servant offers his 
apologies for bringing you bad news.” 

To Abdul’s eternal amazement, Michael burst into a roar 
of laughter, hearty, unsuppressed enjoyment of a good 
joke. 

‘‘Gone.?” he repeated. “The Sitt has gone, made a 
moonlight flitting.? The little devil!” 

Abdul’s mystification was so complete that he could only 
salaam. 

“The little coward!” Michael said. “The miserable lit- 
tle coward !” 

He spoke so rapidly, and in English, that Abdul could 
not fully understand. Indeed, he was totally at a loss to 
comprehend anything of the situation. It baffled him. His 
master actually seemed pleased and highly amused at the 
cowardly conduct of his mistress ! 

“When did the Sitt leave the camp, Abdul.?” 

“At about two o’clock this morning, Effendi. She has 
taken everything with her.” He threw up his hands. “Her 
medicines, her delicate food, everything we need for the 
saint.” 

“Curse her !” Michael said. “What a dirty trick !” 

“The Sitt was very much afraid, Effendi.” 

“Well, perhaps that was quite natural, Abdul. But to 
take everything away ! What shall we do without her tins 
of milk, her medicine-chest .?” 

^^Insha Allahy we will save the ‘favoured of God,’ Ef- 
fendi. There in the Bedouin camp they will give us milk 
— ^they have goats.” 

“How is he this morning.?” 

17 


258 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


‘^The Answerer of Prayer has heard the cry of His 
children. He has again bestowed upon us His everlasting 
mercy, His compassion is infinite.” 

‘^The saint is better.?” 

‘^The malady is running its course. InsJia Allah, it will 
do so without any complications. The pox now appears on 
his back and body. The condition of the saint’s general 
health is not such as to cause any undue anxiety to the 
EfFendi.” 

‘Ts he conscious.?” 

^^His thoughts are in heaven, but his mind is clearer, 
praise be to Allah.” 

‘^And the Michael said. ‘‘How did she get 

away?” 

“She gave minute instructions to Hassan early in the 
evening.” Abdul salaamed. ^^Aiwah, honourable Effendi, 
you will be relieved of a double anxiety — ^the Sitt was 
greatly afraid.” 

“Yes, Abdul, I’m thankful, very thankful.” Michael 
stretched out his arms and breathed a deep breath of free- 
dom. Thank God she had gone, gone of her own free will ! 
This, then, was the meaning of his sense of liberation. The 
white tent was there no longer. It had vanished. 

Then he remembered having stirred in his sleep. The 
bells he had heard were the bells on the animals which were 
carrying the frightened Millicent. Her hi j rah had not 
been achieved without affecting his subconscious mind. 

Meanwhile, Abdul was studying his master’s mind. He 
was reading his thoughts as one reads a story from the il- 
lustrations of a book. He saw relief and freedom — and, 
above all, thankfulness. His master’s besetting sin was 
his dislike of scenes, his hypersensitiveness in the matter 
of causing pain to others, the desire to surround himself 
with happiness. 

Gehenna to the harlot!” he said to himself. ^‘Insha 
Allah, she will regret last night’s work, even though it may 
benefit the Effendi !” 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


269 


‘Wou will be lonely, Effendi,” he said. ‘‘But without the 
honourable Sitt your work will progress. Women are a 
hindrance to men’s minds, an anxiety.” 

“I am well pleased, Abdul. We were not lonely before 
Madam came.” 

^^Aiwah, Effendi, there was the prospect of the meeting 
with the honourable Sitt. Now there is desolation.” 

“I did not seek the meeting, Abdul. All is well.” 

^‘Insha Allah, things will progress more favourably.” 

Abdul left his master. He had learned all that he wanted 
to know. The Effendi did not love the harlot. He kne^ 
now that the woman had followed Michael, and that she had 
got wind of the hidden treasure. 

When he was alone, he gazed at the shrunken encamp- 
ment. The white tent was there no longer; the place was 
rid of the woman and her luxuries. Had she decamped with 
two ends in view — ^to get away from the infected spot and 
to anticipate the Effendi in his search 

^‘GehennaT^ he said again. “I did not tell the honour- 
able Effendi that the linen sheets in which the saint slept 
last night belonged to the Sitt — that they are packed with 
her clothes which she will wear again ! She has made her 
own bed — let her sleep in it. Hassan will see to that.” 

The distance of the flat desert had obliterated Milli- 
cent’s cavalcade. Was it journeying towards civilization, 
hurrying from the plague-spot in the desert, or was it go- 
ing to the hills behind Akhnaton’s city? 

When Michael had hurried to the saint the night before 
and had shown himself totally fearless and unmindful of 
his own welfare, the saint had implored him to leave him. 
He knew the danger and the awfulness of smallpox; He 
knew the risk the Englishman was running. 

When Michael made him understand that he had no in- 
tention of leaving him, that he was going to wait for him 
until he was better, the sick man was overwhelmed with 
gratitude. He told Michael that he would show him, if 
Allah permitted, the place in the hills where the hidden 


260 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


treasure lay. But in case it should please the Giver of 
Death to allow His servant to look upon the beauty of His 
face (which was the sick man’s way of saying in case he 
should die), he would beg of the Elfendi to listen to what 
he had to tell him. 

^‘While my memory is clear, while the All-Merciful per- 
mits me to speak to the EfFendi, I will instruct him, the 
treasure shall be his.” 

Had the saint’s instructions been passed on to Millicent’s 
ears.? Were her fast-moving camels bearing her to the 
crocks of fine gold and the wealth of jewels which the her- 
mit of el-Azhar had visualized.? 

The fate of every man hangs round his neck. If Allah 
had willed it.? 


CHAPTER VH 

The saint was dead. At dawn his soul had passed into 
Barzakh^ or the second world, the intermediate state be- 
tween the present life and the resurrection. 

While administering^ to him, Abdul’s anxious ears heard 
the ominous rattle in the dying man’s throat, he turned his 
face Mecca-wards and reverently closed his eyes. At the 
same moment the faithful who had gathered round him — 
among whom were some of the inhabitants of the Bedouin 
village, for the presence of the hermit-saint in the foreign- 
er’s camp was known — in one voice acclaimed ecstatically: 

“Allah! Allah! There is no strength nor power but in 
God. To God we belong, to Him we must return! God 
have mercy on him. La ilaha illallah.^^ 

His death had taken place one hour before sunrise ; it was 
now one hour before sunset and Michael was sitting on a 
little knoll in the desert, watching the mourners return 
from the funeral of the holy man. It was a very simple 
affair, far different from the splendid ceremony which 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


261 


would have been accorded him if he had died near a city 
or of a less contagious malady. There were no hired 
mourners, no fine trappings on the bier, no wild women 
whose quavering ‘^joy-cries” (zaghareet) rent the air with 
their shrill voices. 

The little procession which followed the emaciated corpse 
to its last resting-place in God’s wide acre of sand and sky 
was composed of sincere mourners. The corpse had been 
wrapped in white muslin and enclosed in a white linen bag. 
When devout pilgrims or pious Moslems go on a lengthy 
journey, they usually carry their grave-cloths with them. 
The saint had not provided himself with even his shroud. 
As a favoured of God, the clothes in which he would be 
buried would be forthcoming; he took no thought for the 
morrow. All his life, by Allah’s guidance, men had pro- 
vided for his simple wants. A hermit-saint is never without 
his devotees. As a welee he was worthy of a costly funeral, 
but the nature of his death demanded immediate burial. 
His fame would follow after. Michael knew that probably 
some day a white tomb, like a miniature mosque, would 
mark the spot where his bones had been laid to rest. And 
to that tomb, a conspicuous object in the flat desert, with 
its white dome silhouetted against the deep blue sky, de- 
vout pilgrims would travel for many generations. 

Michael had not attended the funeral. He had consulted 
Abdul and they had come to the conclusion that it would 
be wiser for him, as a professing Christian, not to be pres- 
ent at the actual religious ceremony. From a raised spot 
in the desert he had seen all that had taken place. In 
accordance with Moslem superstition, the funeral had been 
before sunset. All Moslems dislike a dead body remaining 
in the house overnight; it is always, when circumstances 
permit, buried in the evening of the day on which death 
has taken place. 

Abdul had told Michael that the dead man would, in all 
probability, guide the bearers to the exact spot where they 
were to bury him ; if they were going in the wrong direction 


262 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


he would impel them to stop. Michael had watched with 
interest to see if this would take place, if the bearers halted 
or altered their course. Evidently the saint was pleased 
with the spot they had selected, for they journeyed on un- 
haltingly until they were lost to sight. 

And now the little procession was returning, in the fad- 
ing sunlight. The holy man’s emaciated frame, enclosed in 
its white bag, lay under the golden sand of the eastern 
desert. 

This desert burial seemed to Michael a very simple and 
beautiful method of disposing of the dead. The dull chant- 
ing of the mourners had lent an emotional note to the 
scene. It was a sad little incident, but one totally free 
from the ordinary melancholy which attends a Western 
burial. For a Moslem, death has little horror. A pilgrim 
in the desert, when he knows that his death is approaching, 
either from fatigue or exhaustion or some disease, will dig 
his own grave and lay himself down in it, covering his body 
up to his neck with sand. There he will quietly, with East- 
ern philosophy, await his end. He knows that the four 
winds will bring drifting sand to the spot where his body 
lies; it will gather and gather, as it does against any ex- 
crescence, until his body is well covered. In the desert many 
are the ships that pass in the night. 

The saint had been in Michael’s camp for a fortnight and 
during that time no other member of the party had de- 
veloped smallpox. Michael was in blissful Ignorance of the 
fact that the servant whom he had sent back to Freddy 
Lampton’s hut in the Valley of the Tombs of the Kings, 
bearing a letter to Margaret, in w^hich he had told her 
everything that had happened — not omitting Millicent’s 
visit and her sudden departure — had never even reached 
Luxor. He had fallen sick by the way and had died of 
smallpox in a desert village. He alone of the whole party 
had contracted the disease. The letter which he carried was 
burned by the sheikh of the village, a wise and cautious 
man, who had been called in to give his advice as to the 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


263 


treatment of the infectious traveller. A sheikhas duties are 
many and varied; he is indeed the father of his village. 
The traveller had, of course, gone to the hotel or rest-house 
for travellers in the village, where he was entitled to one 
night’s rest and food. 

It was during the long, anxious days when the saint hov- 
ered between life and death that the true hospitality of the 
Bedouin camp was put to the test. And it was not want- 
ing ; whatever was theirs to give they gave with a beautiful 
hospitality. It was to them a pleasure and satisfaction; 
Allah be praised that they were able to render any service 
to the holy man and to help the stranger who had shown 
him so great an act of charity. Eggs and milk and the 
flesh of young kids they had in abundance, and these offer- 
ings they sent to the camp in such quantities that Michael 
felt embarrassed and overwhelmed. Michael knew that they 
are not a devout people, but in this instance their instinct- 
ive hospitality, stimulated by their superstitions, served in 
place of blind obedience to the teachings of the Koran, in 
which the rules set forth on the subject of charity are splen- 
did and far-reaching. 

The little figure with the silver disc and the protruding 
‘Hummy” had become quite a familiar sight in his camp; 
it came and went with the nervous agility of an antelope. 

On this evening, as Michael watched the party of mourn- 
ers drawing nearer and nearer to the camp, he tried to un- 
derstand their thoughts. He knew that each one of them 
believed exactly the same thing ; their spiritual ideas never 
strayed one letter from the Koran; their minds had never 
thought for themselves — it would have been rank heresy so 
to do. They were as certain now as though they had seen 
it there that the saint’s soul was in Barzakh. It had left 
this, the first world, the world of earning and of the ‘‘first 
creation,” the world where man earns his reward for the 
good or bad deeds which he has done. In Barzakh the saint 
would have a bright and luminous body, for such is the 
reward of the pious. 


S64 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


Was not this in keeping with the luminous appearance 
of Meg^s vision? Abdul had often told Michael that he 
himself had seen in this, the ‘^first world,” the spirits of 
both evil and right doers, and that the spirits of the evil- 
doers were black and smoky, whereas the spirits of the pious 
were luminous as a full moon. 

Michael envied the completeness of their belief, even 
while he pitied them. They had evolved nothing for them- 
selves; their salvation was merely a matter of obeying the 
teachings of the Koran unquestioningly. Obedience and 
surrender were their watchwords. How much better were 
Akhnaton’s “Love and the Companionship of God”! To 
walk and talk with God, how much more enjoyable, how 
much more edifying to man’s higher self, than the mere 
obeying of His laws! Even though they prayed, these 
simple Moslems, five times a day, they never recognized 
God’s voice in the song of the birds ; they did not know that 
it was He Who was singing — the birds were His mediums. 
In the winds of the desert, heaven’s wireless messengers, 
they caught no messages. What the Koran did not specify 
did not enter into their religion or spiritual understanding. 

Abdul approached his master. The saint was buried and 
the procession of the faithful had gone to perform their 
various tasks; it was now time to return to practical mat- 
ters. Michael was amazed at his cheerful expression. Ab- 
dul asked his master if it would suit him to continue their 
journey the next day. Would he give instructions? 

Michael assented. A little of his ardour had vanished. 
“Yes, Abdul,” he said. “I suppose we must be going on 
our way. It is sad to leave this camp, where we have wit- 
nessed such a wonderful example of humility and single- 
ness of purpose. Don’t you shrink from leaving him to 
such utter desolation?” 

^^Aiwahy Elfendi, but you know there is joy for us all, 
not sadness. The beloved ones of God do not die with their 
physical death, for they have their means of sustenance 
with them.” 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 266 

‘Tn the second world, Abdul, is your saint already tast- 
ing the joys of paradise?” 

^^Aiwah, Effendi. Punishments and rewards are bestowed 
immediately after death, and those whose proper place is 
hell are brought to hell, while those who deserve paradise 
are brought to paradise.” 

‘^Then in the third world, what greater rewards are there 
than the pleasures of paradise ? Surely that is infinite hap- 
piness ?” 

‘^The manifestation of the highest glory of God — that 
is the supreme reward, Effendi, the meeting of God face to 
face.” 

^^Then in paradise, in the second world, the saint will 
not yet see God?” 

Effendi. The day of resurrection is the day of the 
complete manifestation of God’s glory, when everyone shall 
become perfectly aware of the existence of God. On that 
day every person shall have a complete and open reward 
for his actions. He shall actually see God.” 

Michael’s thoughts flew to the vision of Akhnaton. If 
the luminous state was significant of Barzakh^ or the sec- 
ond world, perhaps it was only during that period that the 
spirits were able to return to earth. He was never forget- 
ful of the fact that in Eternity time cannot be measured, 
yet three thousand years spent in the second world seemed 
to his human mind a long time of waiting ! 

They were walking together towards the camp. 

‘‘Aiwah, Effendi,” Abdul said, ‘Ho-morrow we depart 
at dawn? — the weather grows hotter.” 

‘‘Yes, Abdul, at dawn. I will be ready — never fear.” 

“Has the Effendi ever allowed himself to think that the 
honourable Sitt who left him two weeks ago may have jour- 
neyed to the hidden treasure?” 

Michael stared. “No, Abdul, no, I have never thought 
of such a thing.” 

“The EflFendi has a beautiful mind. The beloved saint, 


266 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


whom Allah has seen fit to remove from our sight, had a 
heart no more free from evil.” 

‘^But, Abdul. . . Michael stopped. His mind was 
suddenly filled with new thoughts. Abdul’s suggestion had 
opened up a deep chasm of ugly suspicions ; his whole being 
seemed to have fallen into it. Abdul waited. 

“Madam was terrified — she was flying from the danger 
of smallpox. She would think of nothing but of getting 
safely back to civilization, I feel certain.” 

‘‘Aiwahy Effendi, but the honourable Sitt has a woman’s 
soul, and a woman’s soul has often been sold for gold and 
jewels and much fine raiment.” 

“That is true, Abdul.” 

Had not Millicent stooped to the lowest means of trap- 
ping him and of obtaining the information she desired.'^ If 
she could do the one deed, why not the other 

But the idea was absurd. She was so totally ignorant of 
the geography of the desert. She had had no more idea 
of where she was going than a blind kitten. He reminded 
Abdul of the fact. 

‘‘Aiwah, Effendi, but the honourable Sitt had a spy in 
her camp. I have seen him at his work.” 

“What could he have discovered.?^ You, I know, never 
discuss my affairs — we have never even talked of them 
together.” 

Abdul salaamed. “My master’s secrets are his ser- 
vant’s.” 

“Then how could he find out.?^” 

“Tents have ears, Effendi. The saint’s voice was weak, 
but not too weak for the super-ears of a spy. When the 
saint told the Effendi, very secretly and minutely, how to 
find the hidden treasure, on that night when he knew that 
Allah had decreed his death, Abdul was also playing the 
part of a spy. He saw the servant of the honourable Sitt, 
he saw his ear, and how it was placed at a little aperture in 
the sick man’s tent.” 

Michael w^as silent for a few seconds. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


26 T 


lesJi! The Effendi need not trouble too much. I 
did not tell him — there was nothing to be gained by caus- 
ing my master unhappiness.” 

‘‘1 am not troubling, Abdul. If it has been so willed 
that I am to discover Akhnaton’s treasure, even the spy of 
the cleverest woman on earth will not prevent it. I am 
fatalist enough for that, Abdul!” 

‘‘The Effendi is wise. Avarice destroys what the ava- 
ricious gathers. Allah will reward the spy according to his 
merits.” 

Michael smiled. “I’m afraid it is more my nature than 
my piety which makes it easy for me to resign myself to 
the inevitable.” 

“il/a lesh! The Effendi understates his obedience to 
God’s will — there is much good in patiently tolerating 
what you dislike.” 

“There’s another way of expressing the same thing, 
Abdul — Effendi Lampton calls it ‘drifting.’ I am too like 
the desert sands, he thinks. I am without ambition, I too 
easily accept what seems to me the deciding finger of fate.” 

“Content is prosperity, Effendi.” 

“And we say that God helps those who help themselves.” 

Abdul smiled. “Our rendering of the prov- 
erb is more beautiful — ‘God helps us so long as we help 
each other.’ The Effendi showed much charity — he helps 
others rather than himself.” 

“My help was unworthy of mention, the merest human 
sympathy for the helpless and suffering. Who could have 
done less.?^” 

“We consider sympathy the next best thing to a proper 
belief in God, sympathy for others.” Abdul bowed. “The 
Effendi has much sympathy — he himself is not aware of 
how much.” 

“Thank you, Abdul, but I do believe in God. I believe 
in Him so fully and unreservedly that I often wonder why 
I am not a good man. Sometimes I am not so bad, or I 
think I am not, for I am very conscious of Him, He is 


268 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


very near to me. At other times the world is a wilderness 
and God is very far.” 

‘‘We are never far from God, Effendi. We cannot be. 
He is closer to us than the hairs of our head, there is noth- 
ing nearer than God.” 

“I know that, Abdul, I know it, but yet these lapses 
come. I feel alone, abandoned, useless, my life purpose- 
less, wasted.” 

“A man has no choice, Effendi, in settling the aims of his 
life. He does not enter the world or leave it as he desires. 
The true aim of his life consists in the knowing and wor- 
shipping of God and living for His sake. Our Holy Book 
says, ‘Verily the religion which gives a true knowledge of 
God and directs in the most excellent way of His worship is 
Islam. Islam responds to and supplies the demands of 
human nature, and God has created man after the model of 
Islam and for Islam. He has willed it that man should 
devote his faculties to the love, obedience and worship of 
God, for it is for this reason that Almighty God has 
granted him faculties which are suited to Islam.’ ” 

Michael listened with reverent attention. He knew that 
Abdul was conferring a special favour on him in that he 
was actually quoting the very words of the Holy Koran to 
a Christian. As a matter of fact, Abdul had ceased to think 
of Michael as a Christian — from his Moslem point of view, 
as an enemy of Islam. He rather considered his condition 
as that of one who was searching for the Light and would 
eventually enjoy the perfection of Islam. He knew that 
Michael did not divide the honours of the one and only 
God; he believed, as Moslems believe, that the Effendi Jesus 
was not the Son of God, but a prophet to whom God had 
revealed Himself. 

When they parted for the night, Abdul was again the 
practical servant, the excellent dragoman. By dawn the 
camp would be on its way to its objective, the hills beyond 
the outline of the lost “City of the Horizon.” Abdul, the 
visionary and the pious Moslem, was as keen about reaching 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 269 

Akhnaton’s treasure as Pizarro was obsessed with the re- 
ports of the wealth of Peru. 

For half of that short night Michael tried unsuccessfully 
to sleep. He needed rest, for it had been a trying and 
eventful day, beginning with the saint’s death and ending 
with his solemn and picturesque burial. 

Sleep was indeed very far from him. His brain was too 
excited ; his nerves w^ere beginning to feel the strain of the 
dry desert air. The moment he closed his eyes he could see 
the emaciated frame of the dying saint as he had last seen 
him, a few hours before his death. He could hear with ex- 
traordinary persistence the cries of ^‘Allah ! Allah ! There 
is no strength nor power but in God. To God we belong, 
to Him we must return.” The words had never left the 
desert stillness ; the air held them and repeated them time 
after time. 

He could see Abdul reverently pull the eyelids over the 
death-glazed eyes ; he could see the weeping mourners per- 
form the last ceremonies for the dead saint. 

Then the scene would change to the one he had watched 
in the evening — the white figures, with blue scarves of 
mourning wound round their heads, bearing the saint rev- 
erently across the golden sands. 

How tender it had all been, how vivid the clear, open 
light of uninterrupted space and cloudless sky! 

And now it was all over. He had met the holy man who 
was to lead him to the secret spot where the treasure lay ; he 
had heard from his lips the account of how he had accident- 
ally come across the crocks of gold, when he had made for 
himself a dwelling-place in a cave in the heart of the hills. 
The crocks were full of blocks of Nubian gold; the jewels 
were in caskets which had fallen to pieces, even before his 
eyes, when the winds of the desert had reached them. 

Was it all a wonderful dream.? Had he really in his pos- 
session the crimson amethyst of Oriental beauty, which the 
saint had carried in his ear.? Was it locked in the belt- 
purse which he wore under his clothes by day and laid un- 


270 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


der his pillow by night? He put his hand below his pillow 
and opened the purse; no doubt his fingers w^ould feel the 
jewel. But what was there to tell him that it was really 
there, that he was not the victim of some strange hallucina- 
tion? Thoughts were things. Had he thought about this 
treasure until it had become to him an actual reality? 

Then vision after vision was forced upon his sight — Mil- 
licent in her varying moods, the saint’s ecstasies, the now 
familiar figures of the Bedouin, bearing their offerings to 
the sick man, their polite and beautiful expressions as they 
laid the eggs and milk at his feet. He got so tired of the 
visualizing and recitation of all that he had seen and heard 
during the days which he had spent in anxious uncertainty 
that he could endure it no longer. 

He got up and lit his candle; things would seem more 
real in the light. He stretched out his hand for the book 
which always lay near his bed. The Open Road, his Bible 
and this little volume of selected verse constituted his desert 
library. He wanted a poem which would completely trans- 
fer his thoughts from the throbbing present, which would 
change the arid desert and limitless space into green Eng- 
land, with its enclosing hedges and leafy woods. His 
nerves were jaded; they needed the relaxation of modera- 
tion. Knowing almost every poem in the volume, he quickly 
found Bliss Carman’s ‘‘Ode to the Daisies.” His mind 
recited it even before his eyes saw the words : 

“Over the shoulders and slopes to the dune 
I saw the white daisies go down to the sea, 

A host in the sunshine, an army in June, 

The people God sends us to set our hearts free.” 

He read the next verse and then turned to Wordsworth’s 
immortal lines : 

“I wandered lonely as a cloud . . .” 

He read the poem through, although he knew each dear, 
familiar word of it. Reading it helped his powers of con- 
centration. It was amazing how quickly the suggestion of 
the words soothed him. As clearly as he had seen all the 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 271 

events of the day repeating themselves, he now saw the host 
of golden daffodils, 

‘‘Beside the lake, beneath the trees.” 

They obliterated the desert, with its immortal voices, its 
passionate appeals. He was no longer wandering lonely as 
a cloud. He was happy, he was one with the dancing daf- 
fodils, as he watched them 

“Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.” 

To how many weary minds has the poem brought the 
same solace, the same spiritual refreshment ? 

“Beside the lake, beneath the trees. 

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.” 

His fingers relaxed their hold on the book. It dropped 
from his hand. Margaret stood among the daffodils, Mar- 
garet, with her steadfast eyes and dark-brown head, Mar- 
garet calling to him in the breeze. 

At dawn, when Abdul came to wake his master, he found 
the candle still burning. It was a little bit of wick floating 
in melted grease, like a light in a saint’s tomb. The book 
which the Effendi had been reading had fallen to the floor. 

Abdul looked at his master anxiously. He must have 
been reading very late. Why had he not been asleep ? He 
ought to have refreshed himself for his long journey. For 
many days past he had looked tired and anxious. 

Abdul folded his hands while he looked at the sleeping 
Michael. 

hamdu lillah (thank God),” he said. “The Effendi 
has been in pleasant company.” 


272 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


CHAPTER VIII 

The camp had moved on. Two days had passed since the 
saint had been laid to rest. They were now making for a 
rock-village, which would take them slightly out of their 
direct route, but from AbduFs account of the place Michael 
thought that the delay would be well worth while. A short 
extension of their journey could make but little difference 
to the finding of the treasure. 

The village was a subterranean one ; its streets and dwell- 
ing-houses were cut out of the desert-rock. It had been 
inhabited by desert people since immemorial times. Obvi- 
ously its origin had been for secrecy and security. Fugi- 
tives had probably made it and lived in it just as the early 
Christians, during their period of persecution, lived in the 
catacombs in Rome. 

Michael had been far from well for some days past. 
Abdul was anxious about his health. There had been no 
fresh cases of smallpox in the camp and Michael’s present 
condition indicated a touch of fever rather than any con- 
tagious malady. He often felt sick ; he was easily tired and 
his excellent powers of sleeping had deserted him. 

He was troubled about Margaret. He had neither heard 
from her nor was he certain that she had received any of 
his letters. During the saint’s illness he had written her 
two letters, which his friends at the Bedouin camp had 
promised to deliver to the next desert mail-carrier who 
passed their hamlet. He had sent a runner to the village 
to which he had told Margaret that she was to write. The 
runner returned, bearing no letter. 

It was consistent with native etiquette that he should pay 
a visit to the omdeh of the subterranean village, which he 
wished to pass through. Abdul had a slight acquaintance 
with him and, being more than a little anxious about his 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


273 


master’s health, he thought that Michael’s visit to him 
might prove of value should any serious illness overtake 
him. 

It was about three o’clock in the afternoon when they 
arrived at the entrance of the village, an uninviting under- 
ground labyrinth, where the sun never penetrated and where 
men, women and children lived in homes cut out of the vir- 
gin rock. It was, of course, necessary to leave their camels 
and go through the village on foot. Abdul told the ser- 
vants that he alone would go with his master; they were to 
meet them in the desert at the other entrance to the village. 

As Michael followed the tall figure of Abdul through the 
narrow streets, which were as dark as railway tunnels, he 
felt horribly sick. He was well accustomed to the torment 
of Egyptian flies, but these particular flies belonged to the 
order of things whose deeds, being evil, loved darkness. 
They covered his face and hands the very moment after he 
had shaken them off. Do what he would, he could not keep 
them away from the corners of his mouth or from going 
up his nostrils. 

“Abdul,” he said, “this gives one a new vision of hell. 
Look at those disgusting children!” He pointed to the 
groups of pale mites, with yellow skins and frail bodies, 
who were playing like puppies in the garbage of the nar- 
row pathway; their faces were covered with large black 
house-flies — they hung in clusters from their eyes and ears 
and from the comers of their mouths. 

^^AiwaJi, Effendi, but these people will live in no other 
surroundings. They prefer this darkness, this unwhole- 
some atmosphere.” 

“And these awful flies 

^^Aiwah, EfFendi. They seldom go up to see the sky; 
perhaps they have never sung to the moon.” 

“To every bird his nest is home, Abdul.” 

^^Aiwahy Effendi. But I will take you to the Omdeh^s 
house — we shall soon be out of this.” 

“Is his house amongst these hovels Michael pointed 

18 


274 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


to one particularly dark cavern. Unlike the ordinary desert 
peoples, the women were veiled; only their dark eyes were 
visible to the stranger whom they flocked to see. They 
showed great surprise when Michael spoke to one of the 
men in fluent Arabic. 

At Michael’s suggestion that the Omdeh’s house would be 
like one of the cave-houses, Abdul had flung back his head. 
His smile was scornful; a little annoyance was perceptible 
in his voice. 

Effendi. The OmdeWs house is like a bower in 
paradise. The Effendi will enjoy a cup of caravan-tea and 
a long rest in the cool orchard, where water flows and caged 
birds sing.” 

‘‘He has an orchard in a cavern like this !” Michael 
steadied himself by catching hold of Abdul’s staff ; he had 
almost fallen over a baby. 

^^Aiwah, Effendi. The Omdeh does not live in the rocks, 
like the bats. His house is just outside the village. He 
is very rich — ^he owns many camels and much cotton and he 
has a date-farm. He is entitled to three wives.” 

“Very well, Abdul. I put myself in your hands.” 
Michael sighed. “This village makes me feel rather sick — 
the whole thing is too horrible, too sad — God’s blue sky 
just up above, and His sweet, clean desert sand, and down 
here this living death, these idle, dirty women, these sickly, 
fly-covered babies.” 

^^Aiwah, Effendi, it is custom.” Abdul shrugged his 
shoulders. “Did the Effendi not say that to every bird his 
nest is home.^ These women were born here, their children 
will grow up here, and they will have their children here. 
It is their home.” 

“We must get out of it, Abdul. I can’t stand it any 
longer!” Michael tried to walk faster. “If I had only a 
fly-switch! I can’t keep the beasts out of my mouth — it’s 
disgusting !” 

^^Aiwah, Effendi, I told you it was not a wholesome vil- 
lage. I assured the Effendi it would be wiser for him only 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


275 


to pay his respects to the Omdeh and not to pass through 
his village.” Abdul darted into one of the houses, whose 
open front was flush with the rock-wall of the street, which 
was simply a tunnel in a vast rock ; he returned with a palm- 
leaf fan; a half-piastre had purchased it. He fanned his 
master with it until he saw the colour return to his cheeks. 
^‘The EfFendi is better 

‘^Thank you, Abdul, I am all right. It was only this 
stifling atmosphere, and I’ve been feeling a bit off colour 
for the last few days — my usual powers of sleep have de- 
serted me.” 

^‘The EfFendi has some trouble on his mind.?^” 

‘^That is true, Abdul, but the trouble would not be there 
if I was feeling quite my usual self — I could banish it.” 

^^The EfFendi’s heart must not be distracted.” 

have received no letters from the Valley, Abdul. 
What do you think has happened.^” 

^‘The Eff*endi must not ask for things impossible.” 
suppose not, Abdul. When I left the Valley I agreed 
that I should not expect to receive letters — they were not to 
write unless there were things taking place which I ought 
to know, yet my heart is troubled — I have written so often.” 

‘^May the EfFendi’s servant know the cause of his mas- 
ter’s unrest.'^ Will he permit two hearts to bear the bur- 
den.?” 

should feel at rest if I was certain that the EfFendi 
Lampton had received my letter, if I knew that scandal had 
not been carried to the hut.” Michael paused. ‘T wished 
to be the first to tell him that Madam was a member of our 
camp, that I met her unexpectedly, that fear sent her away. 
My happiness depended upon his answer, upon his absolute 
belief in my explanation.” 

^‘Aiwahy EfFendi, Abdul understands. The situation has 
complications — ill news travels apace.” 

should not like the Sitt to hear from other sources 
that Madam was with us.” 


276 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


‘‘But your letter should have reached the hut by this time, 
Effendi.” 

“Has there been time to get an answer? Do you believe 
my letter reached Effendi Lampton, Abdul?” Michael asked 
the question interestedly. Had this seer any second knowl- 
edge on the subject? Had he the conviction that in the 
Valley of the Tombs of the Kings there was no misgiving, 
no fear, that Margaret’s heart was undisturbed? 

Abdul knew what his master meant, but with his native 
dislike of giving an unpleasant answer when a pleasant one 
would serve, he parried the question. 

“The honourable Sitt has a noble nature, a clean heart. 
She is not like Madam. The Effendi’s thoughts make his 
own unhappiness, they are not the thoughts of the gracious 
lady. The thoughts that come from her travel on angel’s 
wings; they gave the Effendi dreams last night.” 

“You are right, Abdul. Ah, thank goodness !” Michael 
gave an exclamation of pleasure ; he had caught a glint of 
sunshine, had felt a breath of desert air. The Living Aton 
was penetrating the rat-pit. 

‘‘Aiwah, Effendi, that is the exit of the village. The 
Omdeh^s house is not far off — in less than five minutes the 
Effendi will be reposing in his cool selamlik, his throat re- 
freshed with caravan tea.” 

In a native house the selamlik is a spacious room or sum- 
mer-house, set apart for the receiving of guests. To Mi- 
chael the Omdeh^s selamlik seemed like a foretaste of para- 
dise. The Omdeh was a courteous old gentleman, who 
played the part of host and government official with a sim- 
ple dignity and friendly hospitality. 

The open front of the selamlik faced a beautiful orange 
orchard; low seats, comfortably cushioned, ran around its 
three walls. The Omdeh sat on his feet on his mastaba. 
His splendid turban and flowing white robes gave him the 
appearance of a Kadi dispensing justice from his throne. 
Abdul and Michael reclined on the seat which faced him. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 277 

They had both been presented with an elaborate fly-switch, 
whose handles w^ere decorated with bright beads. 

The old man was astonished and delighted to find that 
Michael could speak Arabic. He was an intelligent, well- 
read man and something of a politician, an ardent sup- 
porter of the British rule in Egypt. He was greatly in- 
terested in all that Michael could tell him relating to the 
news from the outer world. 

In his turn, he expressed his regret that more trouble was 
not taken to suppress the secret, seditious, and anti-English 
propaganda which was being taught and preached in the 
desert schools and mosques. 

^^Where they started, no man knows,” he said. ‘^Never- 
theless, EfFendi, their headquarters is ‘somewhere.’ ” He 
smiled the peculiar smile of the Eastern, so baffling to the 
Western mind. “The English are without suspicion, Ef- 
fendi; they trust everyone.” 

Michael expressed his ignorance as to what he alluded 
to. Was he referring to the Nationalist Party in Egypt 

“They do not know their worst enemies, EfFendi. They 
tolerate the presence of mischief-makers, who seduce the 
ignorant. And these strangers are clever, EfFendi, they 
spare no trouble. In the mosques and the schools they are 
teaching, or causing to be taught, strange and new ideas. 
No village is too far ofF for this propaganda to reach. It 
is well to believe in others as we would be believed in our- 
selves, EfFendi, but England is like the ostrich which buries 
its head in the sand. I grieve to tell the EfFendi these 
truths.” 

To Michael the man’s words rang with the truth of con- 
viction. They suggested a new danger to British rule in 
Egypt. And yet he had heard nothing of the unrest to 
which he alluded while he was in Luxor or in Cairo; it 
seemed to flourish in the desert. When he questioned the 
old man, he became as secret as an oyster ; what he definitely 
knew he did not mean to present to every passing stranger. 

While they had been talking, Michael had enjoyed count- 


278 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


less small cups of tea. It was so good and fragrant that 
he realized that for the first time he had drunk tea as it 
was meant to be drunk. He understood how greatly it de- 
teriorates by crossing the ocean; this tea had journeyed all 
the way to the Omdeh’s house by caravan; it had been 
brought overland by the old trade-route. 

When Michael had rested he began the lengthy prelimin- 
aries of saying good-bye. The Omdeh would not hear of 
his going; he invited him to visit his orchard, a beautiful 
Eden of fruits and exotic flowers, abundantly irrigated by 
rivulets of clear water. The contrast between this emerald 
patch, where golden globes of fruit were still hanging from 
some of the orange-trees, struck Michael as flagrantly cruel. 
The Omdeh, because of his wealth and social position, was 
living in a cool, well-built house, surrounded by all that was 
fresh and fair, an ideal home; yet, not a stone’s throw from 
his secluded orchard and cool selamlik, were the narrow 
streets, littered over with filthy children, encrusted with 
scabs and black with flies! An overwhelming pity for the 
ignorant, subterranean people, who were content to live like 
rats in their holes, filled his soul. How could the Omdeh 
permit it? He seemed kind and he knew that he was in- 
telligent. Probably when the poor were in trouble they 
instinctively came to him; he administered the affairs of 
the village, no doubt, with scrupulous impartiality. In this 
ancient and conservative land it was simply a part of his 
inherited belief and tradition that such extremes would 
always exist, that the condition of these people was the 
condition of which they were worthy, that it was no man’s 
business but their own. They were in Allah’s hands. If 
He willed it. He would help them to rise above it. Our 
wants make us poor — these men and women had no wants ; 
they were not poor. 

It was with much difficulty that Michael at last bade his 
host adieu, an adieu of abounding phraseology and grace of 
speech. The Omdeh, with native hospitality, had tried to 
persuade his guest to remain with him for some days, or if 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


279 


he could not do that, to at least do honour to his humble 
house by spending' one night in it. If the honourable Ef- 
fendi would only remain, he would tell his servant to kill 
a sheep and have it roasted; he would send for a noted 
dancer, to beguile the later hours of the evening ; he would 
have his four gazelles brought to the selamlik and Michael 
should see how beautifully they ran and jumped — they 
were of a very rare species, much admired by all who could 
appreciate their points. 

To all these inducements Michael turned a deaf ear, even 
to the last, a blind musician, whose ^ood playing was greatly 
celebrated. It was not easy to refuse these pressing in- 
ducements, which were all put before Michael with the! 
elaborate charm of Arabic speech. It was he who was to 
confer the pleasure by remaining ; it was he who was to be 
unselfish and bestow so unexpected and great a pleasure on 
his humble host. 

Determined to get on his way that same afternoon, Mi- 
chael hardened his heart. He told the Omdeh that Abdul 
had arranged that they were to travel to within one day’s 
journey of their destination that same day; their camp 
would be in readiness. On the following day Abdul and 
he were to leave the servants in charge of the camp and 
start out on the last portion of their journey. They were 
now but one day and a half from the Promised Land. 

Michael had agreed with Abdul that their secret must 
not be divulged, that the servants must remain in ignorance 
of the real purpose of their tour. They imagined that it 
was to visit the ancient Pharaoh’s tomb. 

Just as they were leaving the orchard the Omdeh said: 
^^There have been strange rumours afloat, EfFendi. Men 
say that a wealth of buried treasure has been discovered 
in the hills to which you are travelling. Is it known to 
you.f^” 

^Tndeed.^” Michael said evasively. ^‘What sort of treas- 
ure Do the authorities know of it.^^ Who has discovered 
it.f^” He managed to speak calmly and without emotion. 


280 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


The Omdeh threw back his head. is not worth a wise 
man’s breath inquiring. It is but one of the many foolish 
fables which travel with the winds.” He shrugged his 
shoulders. 

‘^What started the rumour.? Where did it originate.? 
There is generally some fire where there’s smoke.” 

‘‘Where do such things have their birth? It is no easier 
to discover than the birthchamber of the anti-British prop- 
aganda in Egypt, Effendi.” 

“You do not attach any belief to the rumour.?” 

“ia, Effendi. Who would believe that men are standing 
knee-deep in jewels and precious stones, and that there is 
enough gold to build three mosques in these hills, so near 
the village.?” 

Michael laughed. He remembered the reports which had 
been spread abroad about the wealth of Freddy’s find. One 
Englishman had heard that Freddy had been wading ankle- 
deep in priceless scarabs and jewels and gold collars and 
necklaces. 

“You may well laugh, Effendi. The poor and ignorant 
will believe anything. I must see the jewels first.” 

Michael wondered what he would say if he showed him the 
crimson amethyst which had had its second hiding-place in 
the saint’s ear. 

“But who is reported to have found this King Solomon’s 
mine?” 

“Some poor man, whom no one has seen or spoken to — 
every man who tells you the fairy-tale has heard it from his 
trusted friend, from a reliable source. I never believe in 
these trusted friends, or any reliable source but my own 
eyes. And even then, with the wise, seeing isn’t always be- 
lieving.” 

Michael stole an unseen glance at Abdul. His face was 
as expressionless as a death-mask. The report appeared to 
him to be beneath contempt. He politely warned his master 
that the sun was not so high in the heavens ; they had many 
hours to travel. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


281 


When they were out of hearing and all the polite good- 
byes had been spoken — sl proceeding which is always a try- 
ing one to the impatient traveller — Michael and Abdul 
talked together in low accents and in English. What had 
the Omdeh^s news really meant? 

In Abdul’s heart there was little doubt as to who had 
found it, if there was any truth in the rumour. Even if 
they divided the wealth of the treasure by a hundred, and 
made all due allowances for native exaggeration, it still 
seemed as though the treasure was one of unusual import- 
ance. 

‘^Then you believe there is truth in the report that the 
treasure has been found, Abdul?” 

^Who but the spy of Madam could have known of it, 
EflFendi? and certainly this rumour is disturbing.” 

‘^Some natives might have hit upon it by accident. Such 
things have happened before.” 

‘‘Aiwahy Effendi.” Abdul smiled his unbelieving, un- 
pleasant smile. Just at this particular time, after all these 
thousands of years, the coincidence would indeed be 
strange.” 

‘^Then you believe, Abdul, that Madam has anticipated 
us? that she has secured the treasure?” 

^‘Aiwah, Effendi, I do, if there is any truth in the story. 
And if there is not, it is very strange that such a rumour 
should have been started at this moment.” 

‘T agree,” Michael said. ‘^And yet something in my 
heart tells me that Madam has not done the deed.” 

‘^The little voice, Effendi, it is always true, it knows. 
If the little voice counsels, always obey it.” 

‘Tt tells me, Abdul, that in this one instance Madam is 
innocent. I agree with you that if the treasure has been 
found, it is passing strange and points only to one thing. 
And yet, if I was to lay my hand on the Holy Book and 
swear my belief, it would not be that she was guilty of this 
piece of treachery.” 

^Tf Madam has not anticipated the Effendi, then the 


282 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


treasure is intact ! The rumour is false. It is strange what 
wonderful treasures have melted into thin air before this, 
EfFendi. I have known of dealers in antikas travelling for 
days without end, only to find ... !” Abdul threw back 
his head. 

‘‘A mare’s nest,” Michael said. ‘^That is what we call it, 
Abdul.” 

‘‘A good expression, EfFendi.” In Abdul’s heart there 
was anger and chagrin. Had the harlot outwitted them.^^ 
Was she even now in possession of the jewels and gold 
which the saint had discovered, which he himself had clearly 
visualized ? 

A beatific smile lit up his face. If the woman had lain 
in the sheets which had made the sick man’s bed, not all the 
jewels of the Orient or the gold of Ophir would now make 
her hideous face pleasing in the sight 9f men ! What would 
her emeralds and topazes and cornelians be worth? They 
would only mock her pox-pitted face! 

In Abdul’s Moslem heart there was no pity. His eyes 
visualized and rejoiced in the sight of the treacherous wom- 
an’s spoilt beauty. She had earned his hatred, and she 
had had it ever since the moment when she had spoken 
scornfully of the saint, a hatred which had grown and 
flourished like the Biblical bay-tree. To despise a Chris- 
tian — and more especially a Christian woman — was in keep- 
ing with his Oriental mind and Moslem trafining; he de- 
spised Millicent not only as a woman and a Christian, but 
as a harlot. No evil which he could do to her would inflict 
the least shame upon his own soul. The contemplation of 
what her misery would be when she discovered that she was 
sickening for the smallpox afforded him a gratifying pleas- 
ure. He had drunk deeply of the cup of hate; it was not 
tempered with camphor. 

When they pitched their camp that night, Michael felt 
weary and depressed. A physical lassitude, which he had 
found it increasingly difficult to fight against for the last 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


283 


two days, overwhelmed him. He was glad to go to bed and 
try to sleep. His efforts met with little success; he felt 
horribly wide awake and acutely conscious of the smallest 
sound. 

When at last sleep came to* him, it did little to give him 
the rest he required, or to restore peace to his nerves, for his 
dreams were a vivid repetition, horribly exaggerated, of his 
journey through the subterranean village. He had lost 
his way; he was wandering through the airless arteries of 
the village. His body was covered with house-flies ; his nose 
and ears tickled with them; they crawled into the corners 
of his mouth ; scabs had broken out on his face and body. 
No little child in the street was a more hideous and loath- 
some object than he felt himself to be. 

No child was ever more pleased to see its mother than 
Michael was to see Abdul, when he came to wake him and 
remind him that that same evening they ought to reach the 
hills, and prove that the OmdeWs rumour about the treas- 
ure was either false or true. Never for one instant had 
Abdul doubted the vision; he had never considered the fact 
that there might never have been any treasure at all. His 
second sight — his truer sight — had seen it. That was suf- 
ficient. 

Michael felt strangely disinclined to exert himself to get 
up and ride from sunrise until sundown. It seemed to him 
a task which he could never fulfil. But Abdul was obvi- 
ously full of suppressed excitement. He was eager for his 
master to bestir himself and show something of his usual 
enthusiasm and vitality. The OmdeWs story had sorely 
disturbed him. 

“I will be ready, Abdul,” Michael said. “Make me some 
strong coffee.” 

^^Aiwah, Effendi.” 

“Very strong, Abdul !” 

^^Aiwah, Effendi, very strong.” 


284 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


CHAPTER IX 

In the Valley where the Pharaohs sleep, below the smiling 
hills, the heat and the power of the sun were becoming an 
actual danger. The best working hours were those which 
began at dawn and terminated at eleven o’clock. 

In the early summer, for Egypt knows no spring, as it 
knows no twilight, the heat compels even the natives to 
abandon work during the hottest hours of the day. The 
sun is at its most dangerous point in the sky at three o’clock 
in the afternoon ; at that hour, as the season advances, lit- 
tle exposed work can be done. 

One particularly hot afternoon Margaret was waiting for 
her brother to come to tea. She had always contrived to 
keep their sitting-room fresh and cool by closing its win- 
dows and drawing down wet blinds before the sun got a 
chance of entering it. The windows were kept open all 
night. She had tried almost every possible device — and 
had been very successful — for excluding “the brightness of 
Aton” from their home. 

If the windows were left open after sunrise, an army of 
flies too great to combat would invade the room, and ten 
minutes of sunshine would warm the room for the whole 
day. If the sun never penetrated it and the windows were 
kept open during the chilly hours of the night, it was al- 
ways an agreeable and refreshing place to enter after a 
long spell in the blinding sunlight. It was so essential for 
Freddy’s health that he should have a cool, dark room to 
rest in, that Margaret gave the subject her best care and 
unremitting attention. 

The dryness of the air in Upper Egypt can hardly be 
imagined by those who have not experienced it. 

Margaret had heard the overseer’s whistle ; she knew that 
work was suspended for some hours. A beautiful sense of 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


285 


oraer and neatness had been developed out of the mess of 
debris and broken rocks which had disfigured the site of the 
tomb, and some new chambers had been cleared and ex- 
amined. 

When Freddy appeared, Margaret asked him a few ques- 
tions about his work. Had he heard from the experts who 
were examining the skull and bones of the mummy ? 
Freddy answered her absently and half-heartedly. 

^‘No, not yet — no report has come. Let’s have some tea, 
first, before we talk — ^my throat’s bone dry.” 

Meg was conscious of some constraint, some anxiety in 
his manner. Freddy’s silence could be very eloquent. She 
gave him his tea and administered to his wants. For some 
days he had had a little touch of diarrhoea, the result of a 
slight cold caught during one of the quick falls of tempera- 
ture which take place in Upper Egypt. Margaret knew 
that in Egypt diarrhoea must never be neglected, for it too 
often leads to dysentery. She made her brother take the 
proper remedies, a gentle aperient followed by concen- 
trated tincture of camphor, and she had been very careful 
not to allow him to eat any fatty food or fruit or meat. 

Freddy did not take kindly to a diet of arrowroot or rice 
boiled in milk, adulterated with water. This afternoon he 
looked tired and out of spirits. Meg wondered if the tire- 
some complaint had been troubling him again. 

As she handed him the bread and butter she said, ^^Should 
you eat butter, Freddy? Tell me the truth — are you not 
feeling so well to-day? Has there been any return of the 
trouble ?” 

Freddy looked at her in astonishment. His thoughts 
were so far removed from his own health. If abstaining 
from the flesh of animals and the eating of fruit would 
ease his anxiety, he felt that for the rest of his life, he 
would never ask for any other food than watery arrow- 
root. 

‘T’m perfectly all right. That trouble’s quite gone — 
your care has done the trick. Thanks awfully.” 


286 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


‘‘Then what is it, Freddy?’’ Meg laid her hand on his 
arm, her eyes held his. If he attempted to deny the fact 
that there was something on his mind, she knew that he 
knew that his eyes could not hide it from her. 

“I’m bothered about something, Meg. There’s an ugly 
report going about — I’ve made up my mind to tell you.” 

“Report about whom? You?” Meg’s eyes showed battle. 
The Lampton fighting instinct was roused. 

“No, I wish it was about me — I’d soon settle it!” 
Freddy’s eyes were still searched by his sister’s. 

“It’s about Michael,” she said. She rose from her seat. 
“I have expected it. I knew it was coming.” 

“What?” Freddy looked at her in amazement. “You 
expected it?” 

“I felt there was some trouble. I don’t know what — I 
can’t even guess — but I felt it was coming.” She stood in 
front of her brother. “Out with it, old boy ! Tell me the 
worst at once. Is he dying? Has he been murdered? I 
can bear anything except suspense.” 

“It’s something uglier than death, Meg.” 

“Treachery ?” 

“Yes, treachery.” Freddy thought that Meg meant 
treachery on her lover’s part. She had thought of treach- 
ery from enemies. Had some one forestalled Michael with 
the treasure? 

He paused. What could he tell her next? 

“Oh, go on I” Meg cried. “For heaven’s sake, don’t 
spare me! A woman can stand almost anything, Freddy, 
anything but uncertainty.” 

“Can she stand unfaithfulness, Meg, dishonour?” 
Freddy’s eyes dropped. He could not inflict upon himself 
the pain which Meg’s trusting eyes would -cause him. 

A cry rang through the room. “No, not that, not that ! 
Go on, go on — ^what more?” As she spoke, she threw up 
her head. “It’s a lie, Freddy, a hideous He !” 

“I’m afraid there must be some truth in the story, Meg.” 
Freddy’s voice was terrible. It conveyed his reluctant, yet 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


287 


absolute, belief that her lover was guilty. Before he had 
finished speaking, another cry rang through the room. It 
startled Freddy with its intensity, its rage and independ- 
ence. 

tell you it’s a lie ! It’s not true ! And what’s more, 
until I hear it from his own lips, I will never believe a word 
of the scandal.” 

^Toor old chum!” Freddy tried to comfort her with 
the assurance of his sympathy. 

Meg flashed round upon him. “Don’t pity me! Don’t 
dare to pity me ! It’s all the basest treachery. I’ll have 
no pity. I don’t need it !” 

Freddy was silent. It was like Meg not to cry or col- 
lapse, as most girls would have done. She was fighting 
splendidly for her man, whose honour was dearer to her 
than his life. He wished that Michael could have been 
there to see her, unworthy though he apparently was of 
such unwavering loyalty. 

“What is this report.?” she asked. Her cheeks were as 
white as a blanched almond; her eyes splendidly alight. 
The excitement of battle vitalized her. Margaret was 
beautiful in her wrath. 

“I have heard it from several sources that Millicent Mer- 
vill joined Michael in the desert, that she now forms part 
of his camp, that she is, in fact, your lover’s mistress. I 
can’t have it, chum.” 

“It’s a lie! How can you believe it.? A hideous, abom- 
inable lie ! It’s contemptible of you to listen to it, to give 
it a moment’s consideration.” She shivered. “Oh, these 
filthy native tongues !” 

“I wish I could think so, Meg.” 

Meg swung round on him and for a moment he thought 
she was going to strike him. 

“Damn you !” She flashed out the words just as he him- 
self would have said them. “How dare you say so .? He is 
your friend, he has been closer to you than a brother! He 
has no one to defend his name ! You know that he would 


288 THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 

kill any man who attempted to slander you behind your 
back 

Freddy did not resent her attack. She had done just 
what he would have done to any man who had reported any 
slander against her fair name. 

‘T know it’s awfully hard for you to believe it.” 

“I don’t believe it, Freddy, nor do you !” 

told you I wished I didn’t. The evidence is too clear.” 

‘^You haven’t told me that you believe it is true. You 
can’t get beyond the fact that there’s ugly gossip going 
round and that I’m in love with him. If you thought this 
iwas your dying oath, that heaven depended upon the 
truth of your statement, can you say that in your soul you 
believe that Michael has taken this woman with him, that he 
is utterly treacherous and faithless.^ Does your unconquer- 
able voice condemn him.?” 

Freddy thought for a moment. “It looks very black, 
Meg. The evidence is very convincing.” 

“Confound the evidence!” she said. “That is not an 
answer. I asked you, does your inner self, your super- 
man, believe absolutely in his guilt.?” Meg was staring at 
him with hard, questioning eyes; all trace of her love for 
him had been driven out. 

“Well no, if you put it like that, perhaps not. But I 
can’t have your name connected with these stories.” 

“My name.?” she cried. “What do you mean.?” 

“I mean that our women have married straight, clean, 
honourable men.” 

“The Lamptons again!” she said. “Am I never to be 
free from tradition.? Just because I’m a Lampton, I am to 
behave in a mean, disloyal manner to the man I swore to 
trust.? Do you suppose I’m going to.? If you do, you’re 
much mistaken. In my own heart I’ve been Michael’s wife 
for weeks and weeks, so you needn’t imagine I’m going to 
divorce him.” 

“But I do, Meg.” Freddy rose from the table. “Now, 
look here,” he said, “try to speak dispassionately. How 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


289 


can I, as your sole male guardian, countenance an engage- 
ment between you and Michael while there is only too much 
ground for belief that this story is true? I’ve not only 
heard it from the natives.” 

‘Wou’re wholly without reason. You just said you didn’t 
believe it!” The words flashed from Meg’s lips like the 
fire from a gun. 

find it hard to believe. One always wants to hear two 
sides of a story. If Michael can swear that it is not 
true ” 

^‘There is only one side to this story — that it is a lie.” 

^‘Then why has this report been spread about ? There is 
always some fire where there is smoke, even in Egypt.” 

“I don’t know, Freddy.” Meg’s voice broke ; something 
suddenly choked her. 

‘‘The story goes that they met as if by accident in the 
open desert. Millicent had taken a splendid travelling 
equipment with her. She has made no secret of her love for 
Michael in the camp.” 

Meg was silent. A furious rage was gnawing at her 
bowels ; it was going to her brain. 

“Michael made a fine show of surprise,” Freddy con- 
tinued. “But it did not deceive the natives. She doesn’t 
seem to be very popular with them.” 

Meg was thinking and thinking. Was this the explana- 
tion why over and over again she had had presentiments 
that Michael was in trouble, that he needed her? She had 
so often tried to reach him. Suddenly a light broke on her 
darkness, her whirlwind of anger abated. 

“Freddy,” she said, more gently. “If Millicent was in 
the camp, their meeting in the desert was unexpected by 
Michael. She trapped him, she planned it all. Don’t you 
remember that night when you found me on the balcony? 
I told you I had heard Michael calling to me. I can hear 
his voice now.” She paused. “He woke me as surely as 
Mohammed Ali wakes me every morning. He wouldn’t 
have wanted my help if he had been happy with Millicent, 

19 


290 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


if he had aranged the meeting.” Meg laughed, but there 
were tears in her voice. “That’s the explanation, as clear 
as daylight. It’s been sent to me, this light, to lighten 
my darkness.” 

“What is as clear as daylight, Meg.^ You put far too 
much faith in dreams and visions. I want to get you out of 
this. I wish you were more like your old practical self. 
What has this wonderful light made clear 

“That Millicent tricked and trapped Michael, that she 
followed him.” 

“Do you mean that you think that she met Michael 
against his wish.^” Freddy’s soul wondered at the faith of 
women. 

“I do. I don’t think she ever mentioned her plans to 
him. I can see it all as clear as a pikestaff.” A sudden 
sob broke Meg’s voice. Her thankfulness at the unex* 
pected revelation of the mystery caused it. “Of course, 
that’s it. Millicent tempted Michael, after she had once 
met him. He thought he was proof against her woman’s 
wiles, but while we’re on earth we’re only human, Freddy, 
and he was afraid of his own weakness. He called to me. 

^ We arranged to help each other — we were always to try 
our best to reach each other when we felt troubled. Love 
is not such a simple thing as it seems. I used to think that 
when once one was engaged to the man one loved, one would 
just be at anchor in a divine calm.” 

“You believe in dreams and all that sort of thing too 
much. Michael’s led you off — he’s to blame.” 

“There are some things one must believe in, Freddy. 
Our development is in other hands.” 

“What are they.^ Mere old wives’ tales and charlatans’ 
prophecies.” 

“Oh, Freddy!” 

“Well, Michael’s religion’s got so mixed, he doesn’t 
know what he is or what he believes in and doesn’t believe in. 
He has a fine scorn for the old order of things. The be- 
liefs of our forefathers have kept the Lampton men pretty 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


291 


straight and made splendid wives and mothers of their 
women, and I think thaPs good enough for this everyday, 
practical world !” 

‘^Has it been their belief that has done it, Freddy, or 
their family traditions? I think we Lamptons are as true 
ancestor-worshippers as any Shintoists in Japan. I was 
never taught anything about my higher self as a child, or 
made to see that religion was a vital part of our existence. 
It was the shades of our ancestors, nothing more or less — 
what would Uncle John have thought, or what would Aunt 
Anna think ? It was never what would your own soul think 
— was it now? It was pure Shinto. Our god-shelf bore the 
family-portraits.” 

“A jolly good worship, too. You can’t do anything 
very far wrong if you never disgrace the honour of your 
ancestors. I think it’s as good a principle, and far more 
practical and restraining than Michael’s mixture of Akhna- 
ton’s Aton worship and I don’t know what else. I get lost 
when he expounds his idea of God.” 

‘Tt annoys you that his God is too big for any church. 
The Lamptons have always been ardent upholders of the 
Established Church of England.” 

‘Tet him enlarge his church, build his God a bigger 
one.” 

^^That’s just what he has done, that’s just what he says 
the Protestant church has failed to do. Their church has 
never expanded. People’s minds have grown, while the 
Church of England — and, in fact, all churches — ^have stood 
still.” 

^^Michael can’t do things in moderation — he’s just an 
enthusiast about his religion, as he has been about all his 
phases.” 

‘^The best of all things ! What were your Luthers, your 
Cromwells, and St. Francis?” Meg paused. Her voice fell. 
“And Our Lord? Weren’t they enthusiasts? Did they 
take things moderately? Does moderation ever achieve 


292 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


anything? Napoleon said no country was ever conquered 
by half methods.” 

‘^Mike’s enthusiasm is only theoretical. If he has done 
this thing, his new religion allow^s him too much latitude. 
He’d much better have stuck to our plain ancestor-wor- 
ship.” 

‘‘But he hasn’t done it! You know he hasn’t. Don’t go 
over it again. That detestable woman met him and trapped 
him.” 

“And tempted him? The old, old story — the world’s 
first romance — ‘the woman tempted me and I fell.’ ” 

Meg’s tears had dried very quickly. She was strong 
again. “I don’t see how you can speak like that. You told 
me that Michael was straight as a die — you know you did.” 

“But I said he was weak — I told you that, too, didn’t 

IP” 

“If being human is weak, then I suppose he is. I never 
met a man who was a saint. And if believing that we are all 
more good than bad is weak, then I admit his lack of 
strength. It is his humility that makes it impossible for 
him to think evil of anyone. I have often proved it. Al- 
most any man is a better man than himself in his own eyes.” 

“Bosh!” Freddy said. “I do wish he was more ordinary, 
less of a crank about these things ! How can he think he 
isn’t as good a man as that fair-tongued, lying Mohammed 
Ali, for instance, or any of these lying sensualists? It’s 
the ugliest of all prides, the one that apes humility, Meg. 
Lots of religious enthusiasts have it.” 

“No, not with Michael. He thinks he is less good than 
they are because he is perfectly conscious of God,” as he 
expresses it. He enjoys all the privileges of a close con- 
nection with God; he doesn’t only pray to Him, as we do. 
He lives with" Him ; Mike is never alone. And yet with all 
that sense of God, he is full of faults and failings. These 
men and women, who to us appear so bad, are simply 
further back in their evolution. They can’t be bad, if it is 
not their fault. They have not had the same privileges. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


293 


they are only gradually evolving. Spiritually they are 
like the dwellers in the slums as compared with the inmates 
of the beautifully-appointed hygienic house in the country. 
Michael is in the light; these poor souls are in darkness. 
It is all a part of the Great Law.” 

Freddy had finished his tea. It had afforded. him little 
pleasure. He must come to some definite understanding 
with Meg. His thoughts had been all centred on the plan 
of sending her home, getting her away from the atmos- 
phere which had so strong a hold over her imagination. 
Perhaps if she was back in England, she might be able to 
put Michael and his ideas out of her thoughts. He had 
no wish to be disloyal to his friend, or to give him no chance 
to defend himself ; but he had to admit that he was very 
thankful that it was Michael himself who had insisted that 
there was to be no recognized engagement between them. 
Had he at the time had any motive for insisting on the 
fact.^ That was an idea; it had not occurred to him be- 
fore. 

He turned to Meg and said abruptly: ‘^What about 
going home, Meg.^ IPs getting too hot for this sort of 
thing — the Valley is stifling.” 

“What do you mean.^” 

“IPs too hot — the year’s advancing.” 

Meg tried to speak calmly. 

“Don’t treat me like a naughty child, Freddy. If it 
gets hotter than the Inferno I won’t leave the place until I 
hear from Michael.” She was not going to be a Lampton 
in one respect and not in another. A horse with the stag- 
gers was not in it with a mulish Lampton. 

“If you hear from him, or find undeniable proofs that 
the story is true, will you go then?” 

“Yes, when Michael tells me with his own lips, or I see it 
in his own handwriting, or I myself am convinced that Mil- 
licent was with him, I will meekly obey you. You can rely 
upon the Lampton pride. It won’t fail me.” 

“Right you are, old girl ! That’s all I’ll ask.” Freddy 


S94 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


bent down and pressed her head to his breast. ‘‘I hope to 
God that will never be, old lady, you know that.” 

Freddy’s little touch of tenderness was the last straw. It 
was too much for Meg. She turned round and hid her face 
against his shoulder. A very fountain of weeping welled 
up. 

“You dear, blessed old thing! I’ve been a brute, a per- 
fect brute, but I love him awfully ! Oh, Freddy, you don’t 
know how much I can love, and you hurt me dreadfully I” 
She had sobbed out the words. The fiery Lampton was now 
a sorrowing, heartsick girl, hungering for her lover’s ca- 
resses. Freddy’s gentleness had called up a thousand 
wants. 

Freddy knew that affection was what she needed, but he 
was a bad hand at any show of brotherly emotion. The 
Lampton men were fine lovers; no woman had ever found 
them wanting in the art. But it was part of their tradition 
to suppress all outward signs of family affection. Instinct 
told him that some caresses and a petting were what his 
sister longed for. For weeks she had been robbed of a lov- 
er’s devotion, a very fine lover, who had filled her days with 
romance and her heart with song. 

“You weren’t a bit a brute, Meg. You were just as 
usual, a bit more like a man than a girl. I’d have done and 
said just as you did if anyone had said things about the 
woman I loved — or, I hope I should.” 

Meg only hugged her brother. Words were beyond her. 
She knew by the way he was speaking that he was quite 
glad to help her, now that he had got over the disagree- 
able business of telling her and warning her, that his efforts 
would be turned towards the finding of Michael’s where- 
abouts and getting to the bottom of the gossip. She looked 
up with cheerful eyes. 

“Do you remember that day, Freddy, when Millicent 
Mervill lunched here.^” 

“Rather !” 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 295 

“And you said she came for some object which she took 
care not to reveal?” 

“Yes, I remember.” 

“Well, I never told you, because I thought you had good 
reason for thinking that I was too hard on her, that I was 
jealous of her, to the exclusion of all reason. . . .” 

“You are pretty good at hating, Meg.” 

“Well, Mohammed Ali has since told me where he found 
her eye of Horus. Guess where it was.” 

Freddy laughed. “I’m sure I couldn’t.” 

“She read my diary all the time she was here alone. He 
says she asked if she might rest and tidy up in my room. 
He found the eye of Horus just beside the table where she 
had been reading it. He thinks that it must have caught 
in the key of the drawer in the table. Probably she thought 
we were coming and moved quickly away — ^the ring was 
easily wrenched open.” 

“The little cad!” Freddy said slowly. “The venomous 
little toad 1” 

“In my diary, Freddy, I referred to Michael’s strange 
journey, his journey to King Solomon’s Mines, as we al- 
ways called it.” 

Freddy freed himself from his sister’s arms and lit a 
cigarette. 

“What a mean little brute! Mohammed Ali was prob- 
ably in her pay; he told her he had found the eye at the 
spot where she dismounted.” 

“He said he told that lie because Madam made a face at 
him He confesses to that.” 

Freddy thought for a moment while he smoked, then he 
said slowly and deliberately: “If she got that information 
from your diary, she could easily get more. Baksheesh 
will make the dead give up their secrets. That is why Bis- 
marck said to his generals, never tell your own shirt what 
you want kept a secret. Diaries are dangerous things, 
Meg.” 

“I wrote it in French,” Meg said. “I thought only the 


296 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


servants would stoop to reading it and they can’t read 
French.” 

‘‘Next time, try invisible ink. In Egypt, once a thing 
is written or told, it is public property.” 

“I scarcely write anything now,” she said. “I feel as if 
some spy will see it, and the dry bones of a diary never in- 
terest me.” 

As Freddy was leaving the sitting-room — he was going 
to bed for a couple of hours before he began work again — 
Margaret said to him : 

“Just tell me before you go, where you first heard the 
report about Michael, and from whom you heard it.” 

“One or two days ago,” he said. “I heard a smouldering 
gossip about it going on amongst the workmen. They’d 
got wind of it somehow. No one ever knows how these 
things begin. Then I met young King from Professor 

L ’s camp, and he told me the whole story. He knew 

Millicent very well. He said she’s not what you could call 
an immoral woman so much as a woman without morals. 
He confesses he never met anyone in the least like her be- 
fore, and he rather prides himself on his knowledge of the 
world — he would have us believe that he has seen a devil of 
a lot. He wondered at a man of Michael’s refined tempera- 
ment taking her into the desert in the way he has done.” 

“He never took her,” Meg said. “Isn’t it hateful, 
Freddy, hearing people make these assertions about our 
Mike.?” 

“That’s what I meant,” Freddy said, “when I told you 
that I hated your name being ij^ixed up with his.” 

“Oh, that’s not what troubles me. No one knows me out 
here, or my affairs. I meant that it’s such a wicked libel 
on Michael, who’s not here to defend himself.” 

“But if she’s there with him, what can you expect the 
world to say, to believe.?” 

“If she followed him and joined him, it wouldn’t be very 
easy to shake her off, would it.?” 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 297 

Freddy smiled. “You’re right there — the fair Millicent 
wouldn’t go because she wasn’t wanted !” 

“I often ask myself why and how we tolerated her.” 

“Did we?” Freddy laughed. 

“Well, yes, we did. Even I found myself liking her 
that day after lunch. I began to wonder if I had always 
been too hard on her, if I had had my judgment perverted 
by my jealousy.” 

“Surely you’re not really jealous of Millicent?” Freddy 
paused. “That is, if you are confident that Michael is not 
with her at the present moment?” 

“I am confident, Freddy. All the same, I have lots to 
be jealous of. Her beauty amazes me every time I look at 
her, and, after all, beauty is a rare and wonderful thing. 
Lots of women are good to look at and attractive, but Mil- 
licent is beautiful. You have often said how rare real 
beauty is and how carelessly we use the expression. Mil- 
licent deserves it.” 

“You needn’t be jealous of mere beauty, Meg. Even 
when she’s on her best behaviour, she never could impress a 
stranger as being anything but what she is, a soulless lit- 
tle minx.” 

“Yet you thoroughly enjoyed her company, Freddy.” 

“I know I did. She’s amusing, her personality is stimu- 
lating. But I shouldn’t like to have too much of it.” 

“Yet you’d have kissed her if you’d been alone with her 
— you said you’d try !” 

Freddy did not deny the accusation. 

“Men are queer things,” Meg said; “but you must get 
off to bed, you look awfully tired.” 

She hated to have to send him away, for it was only on 
very rare occasions, and quite unexpectedly, that Freddy 
expressed his opinions. He belonged to the silent order 
of mankind ; to strangers he never revealed himself ; he 
rarely said anything in their presence which suggested that 
he had opinions at all, or that he was really an exceedingly 
thoughtful person. Meg knew that he had ideas and 


298 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


thoughts — very sound, clear ideas, too. She knew that 
Freddy thought while other men talked. All the same, his 
opinions and thoughts, apart from his' profession, were apt 
to be strangled and suffocated by tradition. Tradition was 
a mighty force in the Lampton family. It almost, as Meg 
said, amounted to ancestor- worship. Freddy’s choice of a 
profession had been his one act of emancipation. He had, 
according to family tradition, been destined for either the 
navy or the army, and it had taken no little strength of 
character to cut the first link in the chain. 

When Freddy had gone to lie down and the little hut 
was left to its midday silence — ^the tropical breathless silence 
of Upper Egypt, when the sun is so hot that even a lizard 
would not venture from its shelter — Meg sat down on a 
chair close to the table, and laid her head on her arms. 

She was tired, tired, tired. She must forget things for 
a little time, before she even tried to review the situation, 
or think out what was best to be done. If only she could 
will herself into absolute unconsciousness for a little time, 
how sweet it would be! If she let herself sleep — even 
though sleep seemed very far from her — she might dream 
of Millicent, and that would be worse than wakefulness and 
remembrance. To trust herself to the lordship of dreams 
was to seek refuge in the unknown, and that was dangerous. 
It was total unconsciousness which she desired, the restful 
unconsciousness of a blank mind. She remained perfectly 
still for a little time, asking for rest, asking for the power 
not to think. She concentrated her thoughts on this one 
desire; she opened her being for the reception of peace. 

Suddenly the voice which heals spoke. It suggested a 
respite for her troubles. ‘‘No mind can remain a blank,” 
it said. “Try instead to think of your vision, fill your 
whole being with its beauty, repeat to yourself all that hap- 
pened during that wonderful revelation.” 

Unconsciously and swiftly Meg’s painful thoughts 
drifted away. The picture of Millicent amusing and 
tempting her lover, which had danced before her eyes, was 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


299 


no longer there — or, at all events, it was not dominating 
her mind, and Freddy’s words no longer rang in her ears. 
Her misery, made by her own thoughts, left her, as a head- 
ache leaves a sufferer when a sedative has been adminis- 
tered. The gentle voice, the divine attendant, achieved its 
work. Meg had asked for rest and for forgetfulness. Her 
prayer was being answered. It repeated to her the tender 
words of Akhnaton ; it told her in Michael’s own dear way 
the true explanation of her vision. With tightly-closed 
eyes and her head bowed, she saw again the whole scene. 
It was unnaturally vivid — the luminous figure, with the 
pitying, sorrowful eyes. As she gazed at it, to her spirit 
came the same quiet comfort as had come to her on that 
night when the vision had visited her. So clearly could 
she see the rays of Aton behind the high crown of Upper 
and Lower Egypt, that she lifted up her head. Perhaps 
He was there, in the sitting-room, standing just in front 
of her.? Had the luminous body penetrated the darkness 
of her tightly-closed eyes ? 

Meg blinked her eyes to rid them of their confusion ; her 
fingers had been tightly pressed against them. She looked 
fixedly into the space in front of her. Nothing was there; 
the room was just as it had been when she closed her eyes. 
The dfeordered table, the cigarette-ash on the two saucers, 
the crumbs from a Huntley and Palmer’s cake on the table- 
cloth — ^these homely things struck her as incongruous. She 
had expected a vision of Akhnaton ; she had hoped for it. 

She put her head down on her arms again ; her thoughts 
had been very sweet ; with closed eyes they might come back 
again. How absurd it was to think of such material things 
as the silver paper round the imported cake, and to remem- 
ber that Freddy had said he was sick of tinned apricot jam ! 

These domestic thoughts had taken but a second. She 
was going back to her vision and to the happiness it had 
given her. 

And so it came to pass that just as Michael had found 
solace for heart and mind in the dancing of the daffodils 


soo 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


which he had visualized in the eastern desert, so Meg’s 
bruised heart lost its sense of fear in her visualizing of the 
world’s first reformer. 

When Freddy returned to the sitting-room, refreshed 
and invigorated, he woke his sister by his noisy entrance. 
He was extremely angry with himself, and showed his sor- 
row very tenderly. 

Meg looked at him with half-awakened senses. Where 
was she.^ What was she doing? What hour of the day 
was it? 

‘^Never mind, Freddy, I’ve slept long enough.” She 
smiled, and looked as though the thoughts from which she 
drew her happiness were far away. 

Freddy put his two hands on her shoulders and looked 
into her eyes. ‘‘Were your dreams very nice, old girl? 
You look as if you’d been playing on the Elysian plain, or 
had been re-born!” 

Meg pulled her brother’s face down to the level of her 
own and whispered, “Heavenly, Freddy, heavenly !” 


CHAPTER X 

“Does my master feel refreshed?” 

It was Abdul who spoke, as he wakened Michael after 
his midday siesta on the day which had brought them with- 
in sight of the Promised Land. 

It had been a morning of intense heat; the desert held 
not one breath of air. The spell of Egypt, which is its 
light, had vanished ; the vast emptiness was as colourless as 
Scotland in an east wind. Piled up on his camel, Michael 
had ridden under a raised shelter, such as is used by caravan 
travellers on long journeys. It was made of bamboos, bent 
into half-hoops and covered with a light canvas. Abdul 
had been afraid of exposing his master, in his uncertain 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


301 


state of health, to the full force of the desert sun. Mi- 
chael had been very grateful, for during the last two days 
it had made him feel sick and his head had ached perpetu- 
ally. 

‘^A touch of the sun,” was AbduPs expressive description 
of his condition. He knew the symptoms only too well, and 
fortunately he also knew how to treat them. 

In answer to AbduPs question, Michael yawned and 
stretched out his arms. ^‘Yes, greatly refreshed, Abdul. 
How long have I slept What time is it? I feel very much 
better.” 

‘‘The EffendPs words give happiness to his servant,” 
Abdul said. “With care my master will enjoy good health 
in a day or two.” 

“I’m all right now, Abdul. That last compress has done 
me a world of good. My headache has lifted.” It was 
characteristic of Michael’s temperament that when he was 
down, he was very, very down, and when he was up, he 
bounded and became scornful of all care and precautions. 

“Everything is in readiness when my master is ready,” 
Abdul said. “There are still three hours before sunset.” 

Michael rose from the impromptu couch which Abdul had 
made for him under the shadow of a mighty rock. The 
desert was no longer a shoreless sea of golden sand; they 
were reaching the reef of hills which was their objective. 

When Michael found himself on his feet and ready to 
mount his camel — that undignified proceeding, which al- 
ways made him realize his own helplessness and evoked from 
the camel ugly roars of justifiable resentment — he found 
himself scarcely as fit as he had thought ; he was giddy and 
still distressingly tired. It was very annoying, not feeling 
up to his best form, now that they were drawing so close 
to the exciting spot. He had imagined that he would feel 
like a gold-miner hurrying to peg out his claim, instead of 
which he was conscious of but one feeling, physical and 
nervous exhaustion. 

He braced himself up. The air was cooler ; a little breeze 


302 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


was lifting the sand and carrying its invisible atoms across 
the surface of the desert. How many times on his journey 
he had seen this noiseless drifting of the sand 1 Now, as he 
watched it from his high seat, it made him think of the 
saint’s grave. Even in this short time much sand would 
have collected on the mound which covered his bones. 

This ceaseless drifting of the sand was an object-lesson 
which illustrated very practically the complete obliteration 
of Egypt’s ancient cities and lost civilizations. Michael 
knew that on such a day as this he had only to lay some 
small object down in the desert, and very soon an accumu- 
lation of sand would gather round it. After a little time 
the object would be completely lost to sight, and in its 
place there would be a little mound, which would grow and 
grow as the years rolled on, until it became a feature in the 
landscape. In such a way were the neglected temples of 
the gods saved from the ravages of fanatics. 

To Michael this provision of Nature, this preserving of 
the world’s earliest treasures and story, was very beautiful. 
It meant a great deal more than the mere accumulation of 
wind-blown sands; it meant that the Creating Hand is 
never still, that the making of the world is eternal. In 
Michael’s opinion there was no doubt but that Egypt’s 
priceless treasures had been designedly hidden, that the 
Author of Nature had preserved them until such a time as 
mankind was capable of appreciating them and guarding 
them. The drifting sands — ever at the caprice of the four 
winds to those who have eyes to see and see not — ^have 
saved Egypt’s history, which is written in stone. 

Reflecting, as was his wont, on these side-issues of the 
world’s evolution, he journeyed on. The breeze was stif- 
fening, a cool, invigorating breeze, w^hich had cleared the 
sky and brought some white clouds into it. In the Valley 
of the Tombs of the Kings the heavens rarel}^ held a cloud ; 
in the eastern desert his travels had carried him north- 
wards, where the dews are heavier and the sudden changes 
in the temperature less noticeable. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


303 


With the cooler atmosphere his spirits rose, his vitality 
quickened. Wonderful pictures danced before his eyes, 
pictures which he had seen over and over again, his first 
visualizing of the treasure. The vision had never been far 
from his mind. He could see himself inspecting the bars 
of gold which Akhnaton had hidden in the hills, and fin- 
gering the ancient jewels while he thought once more of the 
story he had been told by a member of an excavating camp 
in Egypt. The story reassured him: Some native work- 
men, belonging to the camp, had come across a number of 
terra-cotta crocks hidden under a flight of steps. They 
were full to the brim of bars of pure gold. The gold had 
obviously been thrust into the jars very hurriedly. The 
theory they suggested to experts was that the citizens, 
suddenly becoming alarmed by the approach of a besieg- 
ing army, had thrust the wealth of the public treasury ^nto 
the jars and hidden them in the hollow behind the steps of a 
staircase in some public building. If the Romans ever be- 
sieged the city, they had overlooked the jars and so the 
gold had remained in its simple hiding-place until the en- 
thusiasm of modern Egyptologists discovered it. In the 
jars there was sufficient gold to pay for a year’s excavation 
on the historical site. 

Michael knew that such things were possible in Egypt, 
where tales as wonderful as any in A Thousand and One 
Nights are still being enacted. Egypt’s buried treasures 
are infinite. In that land of amazing discoveries there 
has been nothing more amazing than the means of their 
discovery. 

High up in the blue, on his swaying seat on the camel’s 
back, he felt like a man in a cinematograph-theatre, gazing 
upon film after film as it came into view and dissolved away. 
The desert was the stage, his thoughts were the films. At 
one moment the picture presented was his old friend in el- 
Azhar, rejoicing in the knowledge that Michael’s journey 
was accomplished, the treasure realized. He could see the 
African’s eyes glowing like living fire; he could hear his 


304 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


sonorous chanting. His next vision was of Margaret and 
her triumphant happiness; the next his own troubles and 
embarrassments, the troubles of too great wealth. What 
was he to do with the treasure now that he had discovered 
it? There were new laws and stringent regulations and 
restrictions which must be adhered to ; the Government had 
become more grasping. 

But these troubles he put aside. ‘‘Sufficient for the day 
was the finding thereof,” the proving to scoffers that vision- 
aries had legs to stand upon as well as heads. He could 
hear Freddy’s boyish laugh, a laugh of sheer incredulity 
and amazement, and while Freddy laughed he could see and 
feel Margaret’s eyes shining with victory. It made him 
very nervous and excited to think that soon he would be 
able to actually touch and examine the treasure and sacred 
writings of the world’s first divinely-inspired prophet. The 
doubts of his material mind would be forever silenced when 
his fingers had held the jewels and his eyes had seen the 
gold. 

Again he felt convinced that the spirit of Akhnaton had 
selected him to do this work. Freddy had been chosen to 
bestow upon mankind the contents of the royal tomb, which 
held such a mass of confounding matter. We are all the 
chosen workers in the Perfect Law, units in the Divine 
State. 

As he rode on and on, he wondered what Abdul was 
thinking about, w^hat his feelings were. Was he anticipat- 
ing disappointment or success? What had his eyes seen? 

They were approaching the spot indicated by the saint. 
It would, of course, take them some time to discover the 
chamber which held the hidden treasure, but it was suffi- 
ciently thrilling to be drawing nearer and nearer to the 
hills. The canvas had been removed from his sun-shelter; 
only the framework remained. It looked like the skeleton- 
ribs of an animal against the blue of the sky. 

Suddenly Abdul came riding forward. He had some- 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 306 

thing to say ; he never disturbed Michael’s meditations un- 
necessarily. 

‘‘Does the Effendi see anything in the distance?” 

“No, Abdul, nothing. What do you see?” 

Abdul’s calm voice had betrayed a little emotion. 

“Look once more, Effendi — over there, to the left, close 
to the hills.” 

Michael looked, and while he looked he was conscious of 
an ominous atmosphere in the silence. 

“Can the Effendi see nothing?” 

“No, Abdul, absolutely nothing. Yet I thought my eyes 
had improved, my seeing-powers developed. I was vain 
enough to think they were pretty good.” 

“For Western eyes they do see far, Effendi. You must 
allow some few privileges for those who are deprived of the 
benefits of civilization.” 

They rode on in silence. 

“You can see something now, Effendi?” Abdul’s voice 
trembled as it broke the stillness. “It is very clear now, O 
my master. ’ ’ 

“Is it a mirage, or what, Abdul? What am I to see?” 

“No mirage, EflTendi — I wish it were one.” 

“Then out with it !” Michael said impatiently. He had 
not the vaguest idea what Abdul was hinting at ; his mind 
had no room for side issues. “What desert monster lies in 
waiting for us? Don’t make such a mystery out of noth- 
ing !” 

“It is the Khedivial flag, O Effendi. I see it fluttering in 
the breeze.” 

“The Khedivial flag?” The words conveyed no meaning 
to Michael; the reason for its being there did not penetrate 
his brain. “What is there to trouble us about the Khedivial 
flag, Abdul?” 

^^Aiwah, Effendi, do not feel anger in your heart for 
your servant when he tells you what it means.” 

“We ate the salt of our covenant together, Abdul, on the 
night when you brought the saint in your arms to my camp. 

. 20 


306 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


I can never forget that you are more than my servant. You 
are my friend and companion.” 

‘‘Our faith is a gift of God, Effendi, and all the good 
works we perform are the effects of a principle implanted 
and kept alive within us by the Spirit of God.” 

“Granting that is so, Abdul, which I do, nevertheless, the 
covenant of our friendship is sacred. Tell me, why does 
the flag trouble you?” 

“Can my master see it now ? Can he not distinguish any 
other objects?” 

Michael looked again. They had travelled quickly. As 
he looked his heart stopped beating ; his brain became con- 
fused; he felt like a drunken man. Clearly his eye had 
seen ! 

“My God !” he said inaudibly. “It can’t be that, it can’t 
be that !” 

To his naked eye the crescent and the star on the waving 
flag were still invisible, but he could see its vivid red, and 
he could see other objects — white patches, like a* collection 
of saints’ tombs. 

“Abdul,” he said — his voice was miserably broken and 
spent — “what are those white things 

“Tents, Effendi.” 

“Government tents?” 

^‘Aiwah^ Effendi.” 

“What are they doing near the hills?” 

“Must Abdul speak the words which will cause his master 
pain? Will the Effendi not wait until we draw nearer? It 
is not wise to anticipate evil.” 

A horrible suspicion devastated Michael’s brain. He 
could brook no uncertainty. Abdul’s lengthy manner of 
getting to the point irritated him as it had never done 
before. 

“Out with it, Abdul! Having said so much, you must 
say more.” Michael was compelling his servant to give ut- 
terance to the suspicion which had become almost a cer- 
tainty in his mind. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 307 

^‘Alwahy Effendi. The treasure has alraedy been dis- 
covered.” 

‘‘Good God! Do you think it is that, Abdul 

^‘Aiwah, Effendi.” Abdul’s voice was contrite. 

Michael felt as if all movement in the world had sud- 
denly been arrested. Then his mind began scrambling amid 
the ruins of his dreams for some lucid thought, for some 
reason which would explain why he was seated high up on 
a camel’s back in the eastern desert. 

He had never dreamed of such an ending to his dreams. 
In his most despondent moods he had contemplated no 
greater misfortune than the stealing of the jewels and the 
gold, the looting of its portable treasures by native antika 
hunters. His super-man had never seriously contemplated 
even that misfortune; his faith was unshaken, his optimism 
complete. 

The shock he had received affected his physical as well 
as his mental condition. An overwhelming desire came to 
him to get off his high seat and throw himself down on 
the sand and go to sleep for ever and ever. That hateful 
flag, those smiling tents ! whose whiteness had brought a vis- 
ion of Millicent’s tent floating before his eyes. 

“There are thre^ tents, Effendi. Shall we journey to- 
wards them.?^” Abdul’s voice sounded far away. What 
was he talking about Michael tried to concentrate his 
thoughts. 

“Oh yes, of course 1” His voice was listless. “We must go 
on. You may be wrong.” He struggled for mind-control. 

He urged his camel to a quicker pace. They rode on in 
silence. Abdul was now convinced that the harlot — or, in 
other words, Mohammed Ali’s “golden lady” — ^had wreaked 
her vengeance on his master. He had taken into his camp 
the fever-stricken saint; she had slipped away in the night 
and discovered the treasure. With a comprehensiveness 
which would have astounded the impurest of Western ears, 
he cursed Millicent and her vile offspring into the third and 
fourth generations. 


308 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


CHAPTER XI 

As Michael got off his kneeling camel, a young English- 
man left a tent, the outer one of the three which formed the 
excavation-camp, the white tents which Michael had seen 
from his high seat, and c^me quickly forward. It was 
obvious that strangers might come thus far and no further. 
In a voice of official authority, yet by no means ungra- 
ciously, he said to Michael: 

“Can I do anything for you? What do you want.? I’m 
afraid you can’t come any nearer.” 

Michael looked blankly into the thin, intelligent face, a 
sunburnt face, which any woman would have described as 
attractively ugly. For a moment or two neither man spoke. 
There was an unpleasant silence. It was significant of the 
atmosphere of the meeting. It expressed to the excavator 
strain, rather than shyness, on the traveller’s part. He had 
told Michael that he might come no further ; he had asked 
him if he wanted anything. 

At both remarks Michael almost laughed hysterically. 
He was not allowed to come any closer to his own treasure, 
to the gift of Akhnaton, to the legacy of the Pharaoh, 
which had been divinely revealed to him! This interloper 
had asked him if he wanted anything! 

Quicker than light these thoughts flashed through his 
bewildered brain, while between himself and this represen- 
tative of the Government the figure of the world’s first di- 
vinely-inspired man, with the rays of Aton shining bril- 
liantly from behind his head, became clearer and clearer. 
It obliterated the figure of the excavator. 

“What are these tents doing here.?” He managed to ask 
the question by sheer force of will power; he felt relieved 
that the words had come. “And that flag.?” — ^he pointed 
to the Khedivial banner. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


309 


His companion hesitated for a moment. Who was this 
dazed questioner, who had suddenly appeared out of the 
sands of the desert ? He looked almost as worn and physic- 
ally exhausted as a desert fanatic. 

‘^This is an excavation-camp which has just been sanc- 
tioned by the Minister of Public Works. We are engaged 
in making temporary researches. The time-limit is one 
month.” 

Without being in the least discourteous, his words con- 
veyed the impression that in so short a time there was 
more to be done than talk to curious travellers. 

‘^How long has the camp been here Michael asked. “I 
hope you won’t think my questions impertinent. I have a 
very particular reason for wishing to know.” 

The blue eyes in the thin face became more alert. They 
searched Michael’s face with the same scrutiny as they 
searched the debris of the ruins. 

^‘About four days,” he said coldly. 

“Has the Government claimed the site.^” Michael’s 
voice trembled as he asked the question; it was so hard to 
keep cool. 

“The Government is entitled to expropriate any land 
containing antiquities on paying a valuation and ten per 
cent, over, but this, of course, was not private property. 
It belongs to the Government.” 

“Yes, of course. I know something about these new 
rules — I have been working with Lampton in the Valley.” 

“Oh !” The stranger’s voice at once became cordial and 
intimate. “I didn’t know that I was speaking to a fellow- 
digger. How’s Lampton.?” 

“I wasn’t actually digging — I was doing some painting 
for him, and inking the pottery drawings. His latest 
discovery has developed amazing theories.” 

“So I’ve heard. But you look a bit done up. Come in- 
side and have a drink.” Before entering the tent, the 
stranger looked round. “Who’s your man? Is he all 
right?” 


310 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


‘‘He’s one of Lampton’s men — absolutely trustworthy. 
He’s been more than a servant to me for some weeks now.” 
Michael paused, and then said abruptly, “Who told the 
Government of this site.^ What do you expect to find.^” 

“Will you first tell me where you got your information? 
Did you know we were here?” 

“The Omdeh in the subterranean village spoke of it. He 
told me that the natives had discovered a hidden treasure, 
a sort of King Solomon’s Mine, and that they were wading 
knee-deep in jewels and falling over cracks stuffed with 
Nubian gold — a desert fairytale, I suppose?” 

“Absolutely ! If there ever was any gold, it was not here 
when we arrived, and as for the jewels. . . !” He laughed. 
“Hallo! Are you feeling queer 

Michael had managed to get inside the tent, but it was 
the limit of what his legs and head were fit for. He col- 
lapsed on to a lounge, made of wooden boxes covered with 
some rugs. 

The stranger unfastened the padlock of a similar box to 
one of those upon which he was sitting with a key which 
hung from a chain at his side. He raised the lid; it had 
been converted into a wine-cellar. 

“Hold hard,” he said, in a kindly voice. “I’ll give you a 
dWnk.” 

Michael was not fainting; he was merely in a state of 
physical collapse. He gladly accepted the proffered hos- 
pitality. 

When he had swallowed the whiskey, he said : “I’m sorry, 
but I’ve been feeling a bit queer lately. For some days 
past I’ve had a touch of the sun.” He could not tell this 
stranger of his bitter disappointment. 

“Have you ridden far to-day?” 

“Yes. I’ve been In the desert for some time now. We 
started this morning at dawn.” He put the glass down 
on the rough trestle-table. “Thanks most awfully. I feel 
a lot better. You said there was no truth in the report 
about the gold and jewels — what are you expecting?” 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


311 


^‘We have no trace of gold so far, but you must re- 
member that it was a native who brought the information. 
Any discoverer is bound to inform the Government, and 
and portable object accidently found must be given up 
within six days.” 

“But the finder receives half its value?” 

“Yes, but if there was this treasure-trove of gold and 
jewels, it’s doubtful if natives would hand that over. It 
would have been a different thing if it had been monumental 
objects, or even antiques, as they always run the risk of 
being caught trafficking in them. They would be inclined 
to think that half their value is better than none, with the 
added risk of the heavy penalty. The new rules are very 
stringent.” 

“But the jewels? Is there no trace of any precious 
stones? Don’t you think there’s a little fire for all that 
smoke ?” 

“We heard all these wonderful reports, but we have 
found no trace of any treasure. What the native reported 
was that he, along with some other fellahin, had accident- 
ally come across some traces of ancient masonry, not far 
from Akhnaton’s tomb. After digging for a few days, 
they discovered an underground passage, which led into a 
chamber; in it we came upon some papyri.” 

“You have found papyri?” Michael said. His tired eyes 
suddenly glowed; his excitement was obvious. 

“Yes, we have found papyri. They promise to be of 
exceptional interest.” 

“Of what dynasty?” Michael could scarcely speak, or 
hide his anxiety while he waited for an answer to his ques- 
tion. To be able to assume an outward appearance of 
calmness, he was putting a great strain on his self-control. 
He held himself so well in hand that the stranger little 
guessed how much his answer meant to the exhausted trav- 
eller. 

“Amenhotep IV.” 

A cry rang through the room. ‘‘Akhnaton ! did you say? 


312 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


Then it is true !” Margaret, the old man in el-Azhar, and 
the saint, they had all seen and spoken the truth. For 
a moment the stranger was forgotten. It was Margaret 
who was looking at him with glad triumphant eyes. Happy 
Meg ! 

“Yes, the heretic Pharaoh,” the stranger said, as he 
gazed fixedly at Michael. Was this man more than a little 
touched with the sun.? He felt nervous of how to pro- 
ceed. Why was he so excited and pleased.? “These hills, 
you know, were the boundary of his capital. You appear 
interested in him.? He certainly was a wonderful charac- 
ter.” 

The more conventional and colder tones of his voice made 
Michael guarded. Kind as he was, he was just the type of 
man who would laugh to scorn anything he might have told 
him. Freddy’s friendly laughter never troubled Michael; 
the scorn of a stranger was a different thing. 

“Have you deciphered any of the papyri.?” 

“No, we haven’t had the time. We’ve only gone into 
them suflSciently to discover their date. This is, of course, 
a temporary search. We can only do in a month what is 
absolutely necessary. If regular excavations are to be 
made, which I presume there will be, we shall, of course, 
have to wait for a bit, while the final regulations are gone 
through, and until the necessary money is forthcoming. 
These last new rules and restrictions are putting a stop to 
any private enterprise. There is nothing left to pay the 
cost of the dig.” 

“On the whole, I suppose, they do good.?” 

“They don’t do what they were meant to do — and that 
is, stop the stealing and selling of valuable antiques which 
the Government, rightly enough, does not wish to leave the 
country, and desires to have the disposal of.” 

“I had hoped the new restrictions would stop that.” 

“You see, the penalties only apply to the natives and 
the Turks, with the result that the native dealer simply puts 
an Italian or a Greek name over his door. To the foreigner. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


313 


the native is only the agent, ofHcially — the dealer is the 
Greek or Italian whose name is over the door.” 

‘^They’d be sure to get out of the difficulty somehow,” 
Michael said. ^‘About antiques they have no conscience, 
and they are awfully clever.” 

‘‘An inspector may now raid their premises at any time 
of the day or night, and nothing is allowed to be sold out- 
side authorized and licensed shops. Every dealer has to 
keep a day-book, with an entry of each object in his shop 
over five pounds in value, the purchaser’s name must be 
filled in, and every page of the register sealed by the In- 
spector of Antiquities.” 

Michael laughed. “Trust the native mind to find a way 
to circumvent all these fine restrictions !” 

His thoughts had fiown to Millicent. If she had, as 
Abdul believed, discovered the jewels and the gold, where 
were they now ? It was very odd that, even with this damn- 
ing evidence that she had anticipated his find before his 
eyes — for she and she alone could have known of it — his 
finer senses refused to believe that she had cheated and 
tricked him. He had no argument to put forward to jus- 
tify his belief ; it was one of jthose beliefs which are rooted 
in something finer and truer than circumstantial evidence. 
His only argument in her favour was that he had never 
found her mercenary, but, as Abdul had answered him, a 
woman will sell her soul for jewels. 

He felt woefully sick and dejected, far too physically 
exhausted to run the risk of exposing himself to the scorn 
and laughter of the excavator, who was> speaking to him in 
a manner which unconsciously betrayed to the hypersensi- 
tive Michael that he considered the traveller rather too odd 
to waste much valuable time over. Michael wondered, in 
a slow, broken sort of way, what the cold eyes would look 
like if he suddenly produced the uncut crimson amethyst 
from the purse in his waistbelt. He would probably have 
said that it was a clever part of the native fable ; he would 


314 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


probably say that the ancient stone might have come from 
any royal tomb in Egypt, that it proved nothing. 

As a lengthy silence had elapsed, Michael felt that it was 
incumbent on him to be getting on his way. He must pre- 
tend to the excavator that he was now well enough to re- 
sume his journey. As he rose, rather inertly, from his low 
seat, he said: 

^‘You say the native who brought the information of the 
find said nothing at all about the jewels and the gold.^” 

‘‘Not a word! We have heard all that since. As you 
know, news travels in the desert in the most amazing fash- 
ion, once the natives get ear of it.” 

“Won’t you try and follow up the track of the story — 
find out how it originated.? Are you content to take it for 
granted that it is all moonshine.?” 

“We are doing something about it — ^but it’s very diffi- 
cult.” The stranger spoke guardedly. “The only way is 
to set a thief to catch a thief. Gold can be melted, ancient 
stones can be cut, a hundred dealers will be eager to run 
any risk to get them.” 

A flood of anger coloured Michael’s face ; it brought out 
beads of perspiration on his forehead. He could scarcely 
contain himself ; his rage tore at his bowels. His long 
journey, all that he had gone through — was this the end 
of it.? Could anything be more flat, more stale, more un- 
profitable.? What a sudden tumble from the blue to brown 
earth! Above all, how maddening to have to hold his 
tongue, because no man would believe the story he could 
tell them, to have meekly to submit to the conventional eti- 
quette of the moment ! He felt anything but conventional. 
His anger had driven all finer feelings from his mind. If 
he could only find the native who had desecrated the treas- 
ure-trove, he would hang and quarter him without mercy! 

“I’m afraid I must be getting back to my work,” the 
excavator said. “But you needn’t hurry. Rest here for 
as long as you like, only don’t think me inhospitable if I 
leave you. Time’s too precious to waste one moment.” 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


315 


‘‘Thanks very much,” Michael said. “But I’m quite 
fit. You’ve been awfully kind. It’s time I was on my 
way.” 

“Where are you going to.?^” 

“Back to my camp.” 

“Back to your camp.^^ where did you leave it. 

Michael told him. 

“Then did you come on here on purpose to visit this 
dig.? Had you heard of it before you saw the Omdeh in 
the underground village.?” 

“I’d rather not answer your question at present, if you 
don’t mind. All that I know about it, Lampton also knows. 
. . . Some day, I hope, if we meet again, I will tell you 
the whole thing. It’s an odd story, even for Egypt.” 

The man looked annoyed. “You can’t tell me anything 
more.? Have you any information that could help us.? We 
have our suspicions that things aren’t straight. If the 
natives weren’t wading knee-deep in jewels, there was prob- 
ably, as you say, some truth in the report that there were 
valuable antiques.” 

“I’ve nothing reliable to go upon,” Michael said. Noth- 
ing that a man in his normal senses would pay any attention 
to — that was Lampton’s verdict.” 

Again the stranger looked at Michael with calm, search- 
ing eyes. 

“Yet you believe in what you heard.? You believed 
enough to bring you across the desert to find it.?” 

“If you ask Lampton, he’ll tell you that I’m not quite 
in my normal senses — that I frequently walk on my head.” 

“Lampton’s a sound man.” 

“Well, that’s his opinion.” 

“You’re a rum chap,” the stranger said, as he noticed 
that a glint of humour had for the moment driven the ex- 
pression of exhaustion from Michael’s eyes. “Anyhow, I 
hope you’ll not feel too knocked up when you arrive in 
camp, and that we’ll meet again.” 

“I feel as if I could sleep for a year.” 


316 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


‘‘Have another whiskey before you go?” 

“No thanks. I think one has been more than enough — 
iPs made me confoundedly tired.” 

They were standing at the open front of the tent. 

“Good-bye,” Michael said. “And thanks most awfully 
for your hospitality. I suppose you won’t settle on the 
work here until next season?” 

“No, it will be hot enough at the end of three weeks, 
though it’s cooler here than with Lampton in the Valley. 
If the money is forthcoming, we shall take up work again 
next October.” 

They parted abruptly, as Englishmen do. Two fella- 
hiriy mere hewers of wood and drawers of water, would have 
gone through a set formula of graceful words before they 
separated. They are ever mindful of the teachings of the 
Koran, which says : 

“If you are greeted with a greeting, then greet ye with 
a better greeting. God taketh account of all things.” 

Michael had turned his back on the stranger and the wav- 
ing flag. Mechanically he put his hand to his belt-pouch. 
Yes, the crimson amethyst was still there. He felt for it 
as though he were in a dream. The bright light made him 
giddy. The stone w^as his link with and his tangible as- 
surance that the life w^hich he had led for the past weeks 
was a reality ; it was his sacred token that the vision of 
Akhnaton was no mere phantom of an over-imaginative 
brain. Yet, even as he felt its hard substance between his 
thumb and forefinger, he wondered if it was really there. 
He knew that imagination can create strange things ; phan- 
tom tumours have been produced by imagination, tumours 
which are visible to a physician’s eye while the patient is 
conscious and his mind obsessed with the conviction that it 
is there; he knew that such swellings disappear when the 
patient is asleep. He felt dazed, and as if he himself were 
unreal; his feet refused to tread firmly on the earth; they 
never managed to reach it. When he looked for Abdul 
and the camels, they were floating in the heavens above the 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


317 


horizon, miles and miles away; there was a belt of sky be- 
tween them and the desert sand. If his legs had been para- 
lyzed, they could not have felt heavier or more useless. 

He struggled on, but very soon the desert and the sky 
became one; the world in front of him rose suddenly up 
and stood on end. It was quite impossible to reach Abdul — 
he was receding as the horizon recedes when a clear atmos- 
phere foreshortens the distance. In his brain there was a 
confused jumble; it was full of things which had no mean- 
ing or cohesion. Millicent w’'as the centre of the absurd 
medley. Millicent, naked and unashamed, her slender fig- 
ure as thickly covered with uncut j ewels of huge dimensions 
as the statues of Diana of Ephesus are covered with breasts. 
The jewelled vision of Millicent dominated every other 
picture in his brain. It was clearer than the village of flies, 
or the African’s cell in far-off el-Azhar, or the procession 
of white figures returning from the burial of the desert 
saint. It moved along in the clear air in front of him. He 
had no reasoning powers left, or he would have asked him- 
self why his subconscious brain had fashioned this vision 
of Millicent wearing the sacred jewels when he still believed 
in her innocence. The clear voice, man’s divine messenger, 
had kept him assured of the truth of his conviction. 

Everything was dreadfully confused. He wished that 
the horizon would not come right forward and almost 
throw him off his balance. He seemed to be constantly hit- 
ting up against it. And Abdul, why was he floating further 
and further away? The harder he tried to get to him, the 
further he went. And yet he could actually hear him re- 
citing his prayers. He was telling his rosary. Why did 
he tantalize him by coming so near and then floating off 
again? Sometimes he came so near that he could see his 
fine fingers automatically pulling the beads along the 
string ; a tassel of red silk hung from the end of it. There 
were ninety-nine small recp beads and one large one. He 
had reached the fifty-ninth. Michael could tell that, be- 
cause the words Giver of Life” came to him sonorously 


318 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


across the desert stillness. The next one would be ‘‘O Giver 
of Death,” but Abdul had floated away again. Now he 
came back; he had said Living One,” “O Enduring,” 
‘‘O Source of Discovery.” 

That was the sixty-third bead. Why had Abdul stopped 
at that one ? Why did he keep on repeating the words “O 
Source of Discovery,” ‘‘O Source of Discovery”.'^ He 
ought to pass on to the next — ‘*^0 Worthy of All Honour” 
and after that the sixty -fifth, ‘‘O Thou Only One.” No 
one ever stopped at the sixty-third bead ; all the attributes 
of Allah had to be recited. But Abdul was still saying it 
over and over again. “O Source of Discovery,” “O Source 
of Discovery.” The words danced before Michael’s eyes 
in letters of gold, like the advertisement of Bovril which he 
had watched so often from the Thames Embankment, as it 
appeared and disappeared in the sky across the river. 

And then again the letters were obliterated by the nude 
figure of Millicent, with her hanging breasts of jewels. 
How delicate her limbs were, how white her skin ! The sun 
would blister it ; if he could only reach her, he would give 
her his coat. Like himself, she was walking in the clear air 
and not on the firm earth. She was walking as St. Peter 
had walked on the waves of the sea. 

Then something happened. He stumbled and would have 
fallen, but for a great strength which gathered him up and 
sheltered him under the shadow of Everlasting Arms. 

Abdul, with Eastern philosophy, had sat himself down 
to wait while his master interviewed the director of the 
“dig.” His soul was vexed and his mind was ill at ease. 
His master’s health was the principal cause of his anxiety. 
His anger at the harlot, and his disappointment, mingled 
with this anxiety, made him unusually despondent. 

He seated himself on a knoll where his master could easily 
see him when he left the excavator’s tent. It was not yet 
time for the performance of his maghrib, or sunset prayer, 
which had to be said a few minutes after the sun had set. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


319 


He began to recite his rosary, telling an attribute of God to 
each bead. When he had got about half-way through the 
long list of names which form the Mohammedan rosary and 
by which the Moslem addresses his Creator, he saw Michael 
leave the tent and walk out into the sunlight. 

For a moment or two he seemed to be walking quite stead- 
ily and to be coming towards him. Then suddenly he be- 
gan to stagger and lurch like a drunken man. 

Abdul rose from his seat and hurried towards him. What 
had seemed such a long way to Michael had only been a few 
yards. His visions and fears and the constant repetition 
of the sixty-third attribute of Allah had been concentrated 
into the last few seconds before he stumbled and fell, just 
as our dreams are enacted in the last moments before we 
wake. Abdul had scarcely said the words Source of 

Discovery” for the first time when he rose from his seat 
and hurried to his master, who had stumbled and fallen. 
In his Moslem arms was God’s Everlasting Mercy. 


CHAPTER XII 

The heat in the Valley had become intense. The work in 
the excavation-camp was at a standstill ; nothing more could 
be done on the actual site until the late autumn. 

Margaret and Freddy were soon to say good-bye to the 
little hut which had been their home for many months. 

No direct news had come to them of Michael. Freddy 
had heard many accounts and varying reports from unre- 
liable sources of his travels in the eastern desert. He was 
almost convinced that Michael’s silence was due to the fact 
that there was some foundation for the scandal, which was 
persistent, that Millicent was one of his party. The re- 
port had drifted to him from so many sources that he could 
scarcely doubt it. It had sprung up and flourished like 
seed blown over light soil. He was loath to believe that his 


320 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


friend, even if it had not been by his own willing or de- 
sire, should have permitted the woman to stay with him 
when he was Margaret’s acknowledged lover. He despised 
him for being such a weak fool. If Freddy could have left 
his work, he would have started off without delay to look 
for Michael, or at least he would have contrived to discover 
the reason for his silence and what degree of truth there 
was in the story of Millicent’s being with him. Situated 
as he was, it was impossible for him to desert his post. He 
had purposely avoided opening up the subject again with 
Margaret ; it was better to wait until a sufficient length of 
time had elapsed and then, if no word came from Michael, 
he would speak to her again and hold her to her promise to 
return home and try to drive the whole affair from her 
mind. 

Even as he said the words to himself, he knew that they 
were absurd, that such a thing was hopeless. Meg was not 
the sort of w^oman to trust and love a man and then forget 
him. There could be no driving him from her mind. 
Freddy knew that she had enough strength of character 
to do whatever she thought was right. If circumstances 
compelled her to give Michael up, she would do it, but in so 
doing her youth would be killed, her heart broken. Her 
life would have to be re-made. A love like Margaret’s was 
a serious thing; Freddy realized that. He must go to work 
carefully and judiciously. 

It hurt him more than Meg ever knew, to watch her 
suffering and ever-growing anxiety. She made no com- 
plaint and very seldom alluded to her lover’s silence or to 
his absence. When she spoke of him, it was generally to 
recall some happy incident which had happened in their 
secluded life, little things culled from the store-closet of her 
precious memories. 

It was to the stars and to the wide heavens that her heart 
relieved itself. They heard the full story of her trust and 
loyalty and the confessions of her jealous woman’s heart; 
they bore her cry to the understanding ear. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


321 


It was impossible for Margaret to believe any wrong of 
her lover. If she had short waves of doubt and agonizing 
moments of uncertainty and indecision, they were always 
dispelled by the sudden inflow of beautiful thoughts, which 
came like divine visions to her, as direct assurances of Mike’s 
loyalty and steadfastness. 

It was Freddy who caused her the cruellest suffering. It 
was so dreadful to think that he, of all people, doubted, dis- 
trusted Mike! If she had not cared for him so greatly it 
would not have mattered, but apart from Michael he was 
the being she loved and respected most on earth. His eyes 
haunted her; the doubt in them never left her mind; it 
argued against her finer judgment. That her dear chum 
should be working against her higher voice, her super-self, 
troubled her. It seemed to set up a barrier between them, 
which was the cruellest part of the whole affair. If he 
would only let her alone, she would go to some cooler spot 
and there wait and wait until Michael came to her, for she 
knew that he would come back to her, bringing her the 
same beautiful love as he had carried away. She knew per- 
fectly well that in spite of her foolish fits of depression' and 
distrust, he was wholly and absolutely hers while he was 
alive on this earth. 

Freddy bore the expression of one who was waiting to 
deliver judgment. Meg could see his annoyance kindling 
day by day. She could feel him looking at her when he 
thought that she was not noticing. The deeper circles un- 
der her eyes told Freddy their tale; the sagging of her 
clothes, as they hung from her boyish limbs, the pitiful 
flattening of her young breasts. This new and delicate- 
looking Margaret was very beautiful. Our Lady of Sor- 
rows had laid her hand upon her with a softening grace ; the 
new Meg had acquired what boyish Meg had never pos- 
sessed. Under her eyes, on her clear skin there were dark 
shadows, which looked as if they had been made by the im- 
press of carboned thumbs which had pressed tired eyes to 
sleep. Meg^s steadfast, honest eyes now expressed things 

21 


322 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


of a deeper meaning than mere comradeship and brains; 
their beauty was quickened by the soul of suffering. Even 
in Freddy’s eyes she was much more attractive than she had 
been six months ago. She was now a great deal more than 
merely pretty. As he watched her bearing her anxiety 
and what appeared to him her humiliation with so much 
calm dignity and braveness, he said to himself over and 
over again, ‘‘She’s a thousand times too good for a man who 
could behave like a weak fool, if indeed Mike isn’t worse !” 

He was looking at her now, as she lay in a deck-chair, her 
eyes closed and her hands folded across her book. They 
had both been reading, after a hard day’s work. Meg had 
not turned many pages of her book ; her thoughts had wan- 
dered. As she felt her brother’s eyes upon hers, she raised 
her eyelids and looked at him steadily as she said: 

“Freddy, I’m going to see Hadassah Ireton.” 

Freddy sat bolt upright. He, too, had been lying 
stretched out on a lounge-chair. 

“Going to see Mrs. Ireton But you don’t know her!” 

He did not ask Meg why she was going ; he knew. 

“That doesn’t matter — I know all about her. My heart 
and mind know her, and, after all, that’s the important 
thing — it’s the only thing that matters.” 

“But, Meg ” 

“Chum, no ‘buts’ — ‘buts’ belong to small things. This 
is my life. We must do something. You can’t leave your 
work ; I am no longer needed.” 

“But what can Hadassah Ireton do.?” 

“I don’t know — she’ll know. I feel she’ll know. That’s 
why I’m going.” She paused. “I’ve been told to go.” 

“Oh, nonsense! How’s this going to clear things up.?” 
Freddy paused. 

“I don’t know. If I did, I shouldn’t go to the Iretons’. 
It’s because I don’t know, and nothing’s being done, that I 
mean to go to her and consult her.” 

“But why on earth trouble a stranger? I dislike the 
idea.” 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


323 


‘‘There are some human beings who are never strangers. 
Suffering unites people. Hadassah Ireton has suffered.” 

Freddy knocked the ash from his cigarette. A lump had 
risen up in his throat. 

“What are you going to ask her to do.?^” Meg did not 
know the pain her words had given him ; he spoke huskily. 

“She’s going to advise me what to do.” Meg raised her- 
self from her reclining position. “She will help me, if 
Michael’s ill, Freddy.” 

“I don’t suppose he is — I think we’d have heard.” 

“I think that’s why we haven’t heard,” Margaret said 
quickly. 

Freddy remained silent. He thought otherwise. He had 
a man’s knowledge of men. If Millicent Mervill was with 
him, he did not for one moment believe that even Mike 
would be proof against such temptation. 

“If he is ill,” Meg said, “the Iretons will find out. They 
are in such close touch with native life. Anyhow, they 
understood Mike and I want to see them.” 

Meg’s last words were a little cry. Freddy could only 
feel pity for her, although her words stung him. She must 
actually go from him to strangers for the sympathy she 
needed. 

“Well, I won’t stop you, but I think it’s a pity. What- 
ever made you think of such a thing?” 

“The thing that you call inspiration, chum — I know 
another name for it now.” 

Freddy looked amazed; Meg had absorbed so many of 
Mike’s strange ideas. “I don’t know Ireton,” he said. His 
voice had grown colder. 

“He married a Syrian — ^you wouldn’t. The Lamptons 
don’t do that sort of thing.” 

Freddy kept his temper, and the moment after Meg had 
said the words she felt ashamed, disgraced. 

“I’m sorry, chum.” She spoke gently. “It’s my tongue 
that says these hateful things, not my heart. Forgive me, 
like a dear.” 


324 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


‘‘All right, old girl.” Freddy had never told his sister 
that he had refused the hospitality and cut himself oflF from 
the friendship of more than two English families, residents 
in Cairo, because they had taken a prominent part in the 
outcasting of Michael Ireton from English society when he 
had married Hadassar Lekejian. He knew that Margaret 
had spoken the words hastily and unthinkingly. When 
Meg’s nerves were on edge was the only time she was ever 
cross and out of temper. “The Iretons are delightful peo- 
ple. If I’d known Ireton when he was a bachelor, I should 
have visited them after his marriage, but I didn’t, and I 
haven’t much time for paying society calls. Besides, it 
might have looked like patronizing them. The way they 
were treated by some of the English out here was so abom- 
inable that one had to be jolly careful. Ireton never 
minded a scrap — ^he’s too big to care for the social rot that 
goes on out here, but all the same, I didn’t like to make a 
point of calling. I’m a digger, Meg, not a resident with a 
house to invite people to.” 

“From what Mike told me, they must be the most de- 
lightful people. I can’t imagine Hadassah snubbing me if 
I went to see her, can you 

“I don’t suppose she would. What will you say to her.? 
It’s a rum idea.” Freddy became meditative. 

“I don’t know, but whatever one arranges to say on such 
occasions is just the thing one doesn’t say. The atmos- 
phere will suggest the words — ^it always does with me. I’ve 
never yet said the things I planned to say. Have you.?” 

“Scarcely ever, but it might be well to think things out.” 
Freddy disliked the idea of confiding family secrets to 
strangers. “When do you think of going.?” 

“When you leave here, I can go straight to Cairo. It will 
be cooler there. I don’t know Cairo — don’t forget, I’ve 
never seen even the Pyramids.” 

“And when do you mean to go home? The season’s get- 
ting on.” 

“I don’t know. It all depends on what news I can 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 325 

gather, or if a letter comes. I can easily stay in Cairo un- 
til I hear. You won’t object to that.?” 

‘^No. It’s beastly hot here, by Jove!” Freddy poured 
himself out a lemon-squash and drank it off. ^‘I’m not sorry 
it’s time to go home.” 

‘‘I don’t feel the heat very much — ^the nights keep pretty 
cool.” 

^Wou’re looking fagged, all the same.” 

^^Oh, I’m all right — it’s anxiety that kills. If only I 
was certain that he wasn’t ill, Freddy !” 

don’t see why you should think Mike’s ill. He’s lead- 
ing an awfully healthy life. He’s well accustomed to the 
desert. It’s cooler with him than it is here.” 

“I know, but it’s a very strained life. I have a convic- 
tion that he’s ill. Whenever I think intently of him, I see 
him ill and suffering. These things must have their mean- 
ing.” 

“I think we should have heard if he was ill. We got the 
other news quick enough, didn’t we 1” 

Meg frowned. 

^^It will be cooler in Cairo, but give me your word that 
you personally won’t do anything foolish in the way of 
looking for Michael, or going off alone into the desert.” 

^‘No, I won’t do anything foolish. That’s not in my line, 
is it now? I have some Lampton common sense.” 

“Not about some things.” 

Meg laughed. “Wait till you know what it is like, 
chum.” 

“Well, you’ll not forget your other promise?” 

Meg thought for a moment before answering and then 
she said emphatically, “No, I won’t forget niy promise. 
I’m not in the least afraid that I shall be tempted to break 
it.” 

“You have promised to go back to England if you find 
undeniable proof that Michael and Millicent were together 
in the desert.” 

“Yes, I promise. I will go back to the old life, which 


S26 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


seems like a dream. Meg gave a little shiver as she visual- 
ized her old-world Suffolk home and the narrowness of her 
life there. ‘‘Any old place would do, chum, to bury myself 
in if my heart was broken.” 


CHAPTER XHI 

Through a labyrinth of narrow streets, echoing with na- 
tive cries and Oriental traffic, a wonderful sight and sensa- 
tion to strangers unfamiliar with Cairene commercial life, 
Margaret Lampton found her way to “the home of enchant- 
ment,” as she afterwards called the Iretons’ ancient man- 
sion. It was a native house, typical and expressive of the 
most resplendent years of the Mameluke rule in .Egypt. 

A licensed guide, with a brass-lettered number on his 
arm, in a blue cotton jebba and a scarlet fez, had volun- 
teered to show her the way; it would have been impossible 
for a stranger to find it alone. The Cairene licensed guiaes, 
although they are pests, have their uses. 

As Margaret passed under the lintel of the outer door, 
which led into a quiet courtyard of Hadassah Ireton’s 
house, a Nubian servant rose from the stone rnastaba — the 
guards’ seat — upon which he had been lying half asleep; 
he conducted her with the silence of a shadow to the gate 
of the inner or women’s courtyard. This courtyard was 
overlooked by the women’s quarters of the house only. 

Margaret rather timidly entered the second courtyard. 
She scarcely knew what to expect. She was certainly not 
prepared for the vision of beauty which she saw directly the 
door was opened. She had heard nothing at all of the fan- 
tastic beauty of the superb old Mameluke palaces in Cairo ; 
she did not know that the Iretons lived in one. 

A fat servant, also a Nubian, but more amply clad than 
the guard at the outer door, rose from a wooden seat. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 327 

grown grey with age. With the same silence and mystery 
he conducted Margaret across the courtyard. 

Margaret could, of course, only glance at the bewilder- 
ing beauty of her mediagval surroundings as she followed 
the servant, but brief as her vision of it was, it left a never- 
to-be-forgotten picture in her mind. A vision of coolness 
and peace, of oriel windows — chamber-windows for unreal 
people, jealously screened with weather-bleached meshrabi- 
yeh work — and one high balcony, the special feature of the 
courtyard, a dream of romantic beauty, shaded by the dark 
leaves of an ancient lebbek tree. It was a vision as dignified 
as it was touching. It was like a lost piece of a world which 
had passed away, a lonely cloud which had detached itself 
from a world of romance and had hidden itself in the heart 
of a seething city of ugliness and sin. 

Surprise temporarily drove from Margaret’s mind the 
object of her visit; it was not until she was seated in the 
spacious room which overlooked the courtyard, and whose 
front wall consisted of the meshrabiyeh balcony — it was 
now Hadassah Ireton’s drawing-room — that she was 
brought face to face with the unusualness of her visit. 

The room was beautifully cool, screened as it was by the 
delicate lace-work. Meshrabiyeh was invented to fill two 
wants — to screen the windows through which women could 
look out, without being seen themselves, and to admit fresh 
air while it excluded the sun. It is a substitute for glass in 
a warm climate. 

Margaret would have liked to have sat for a little time 
longer to collect her thoughts and to take in the beauty of 
the room ; but that was not to be ; the door opened and her 
hostess entered. 

Of all the beautiful pictures which she had seen since she 
entered the inner courtyard of this mediaeval home, Hadas- 
sah Ireton was the most beautiful. She had brought her 
baby-boy with her; he was just learning to toddle. A sob 
rose in Margaret’s tjiroat, as she saw the fair-haired child 
beside the tall young mother. 


3^8 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


Hadassah had greeted her with the conventional ‘‘How 
do you do?” Margaret answered it as conventionally. 

Hadassah lifted her boy up and held him out to Mar- 
garet. “This is my son,” she said. “I know he wants to 
welcome you.” 

The boy held up his face to be kissed. As he did so, 
Margaret took him in her arms and held him close to her 
breast. Hadassah, who had brought him to administer to 
that very want — a woman’s empty arms — ^went to the bal- 
cony and made a pretense of letting in some fresh air and 
excluding the shaft of sunlight which was coming from 
one of the small oriels that had been left unclosed. 

When she turned to her guest, she saw something very 
like tears in Margaret’s eyes. The child, who did not 
know the meaning of the word fear or shyness, was speak- 
ing to Margaret as if he had known her all his short life. 

“He has taken you into his elastic heart,” Hadassah 
said. “Because, if you don’t mind me saying so, I think 
we are rather like one another.” 

“Oh, no !” Margaret said impulsively, while she blushed. 
“I’m not like you !” 

Her words were expressive of admiration. Hadassah 
did not pretend to misunderstand them; she was well ac- 
customed to admiration. 

“The boy sees the resemblance, I’m sure.” 

“We have both dark heads and we are both tall,” Mar- 
garet said laughingly. “But there the likeness ends.” She 
looked at Hadassah’s eyes as she spoke and wished that she 
could believe that she was in the least like her. She had 
never seen such a beautiful expression in any woman’s eyes 
before. Was she really the Syrian girl whom Michael Ire- 
ton had dared to marry? 

“Let us sit down,” Hadassah said. “But before we be- 
gin our talk, I must send Michael to the nursery. I am 
really so foolish about him — I wanted you to see him.” She 
rang the bell and a pretty Coptic girl in native dress came 
into the room; the boy went off with her without demur. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


The girl had looked at Margaret with big brown eyes; 
they carried her mind back to the portraits of Egyptian 
women painted in Roman times on the walls of tombs. 

^‘What a good little chap !” Margaret said. ^T’m sure 
he wanted to stay with you. How marked the Coptic type 
is! — ^they are the true descendants of the ancient Egyp- 
tians, aren’t they? He looked so fair beside her.” 

‘^Dear little son ! He will be perfectly happy with her. 
He loves everybody and everything. I sometimes wonder 
if it means a lack of character. He rarely cries, and he 
sings baby-songs to himself all day long.” 

‘^What a darling I” Margaret said. ‘‘And how fair 1” 

“Yes,” Hadassah said, “quite English.” The words were 
spoken without malice, but they brought the colour to Mar- 
garet’s cheeks. Hadassah saw it, and said laughingly, “I 
was granted my wish — I wanted to have a boy as like my 
husband as possible. He wanted a girl, I think.” 

Margaret laid her hand on Hadassah’s arm. “Did you 
mind me writing?” she said. “I hope you didn’t think it 
very odd?” Her voice broke. “I wanted your advice. I 
knew you and your husband could help me.” 

“Dear Miss Lampton,” -Hadassah said, “I’m so glad you 
wrote, and of course I understood. It’s worth while to have 
suffered oneself, so as to be able to understand and help 
others in their suffering.” 

Margaret knew all that the words implied, but with her 
habitual reserve, she answered as though Hadassah had re- 
ferred to her cousin’s death. The Nationalist plot in which 
he was implicated had added to the horror which British 
society in Cairo had openly expressed at’ Michael Ireton’s 
marriage with a Syrian, who was a cousin of the ill-advised 
youth. 

“Michael told me something of the tragedy,” Margaret 
said. “You must have felt his death terribly.” 

Margaret’s words were conventional, but Hadassah did 
not miss the sympathy and feeling which lay underneath 
them. 


330 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


did,” Hadassah said. ‘‘But the boy would never have 
been happy — he was one of the pitiful instances you meet 
in Egypt, of misguided idealists. Girgis had a fine char- 
acter, but he was fastened upon because of his wealth by 
the wrong set of the Nationalist party, who misled him and 
then turned on him and killed him because he wouldn’t go 
as far as they wanted him to go in their horrible outrages. 
It was a pitiful story, greatly distorted and misinterpreted 
by the press.” 

“His death was splendid,” Margaret said. “It wiped out 
all the rest — it proved his real worth.” 

“Yes,” Hadassah said. “Poor Girgis died a hero’s death. 
He was as brave as a lion. But come,” she said, “let me 
hear your news. These things we are talking about are 
ancient history to everybody but myself, and I never think 
of them if I can help it. It is better not.” She sighed re- 
flectively. “Dear Girgis knows that I can never forget him. 
He gave me all his fierce young love at a time when it was 
very precious.” 

“Ignorance was at the bottom of it all,” Margaret said. 
She was alluding to the behaviour of the British residents 
in Cairo in respect to Hadassah’s marriage. Hadassah un- 
derstood. 

“I have learned to know and realize that,” she said. 
“And, after all, one must pity ignorance. I have got so far 
that I can actually feel sorry for such narrow minds. As for 
Michael, he never gave it a thought. If our characters are 
widened through suffering, I have gained — they have lost. 
Something fine always leaves our natures when we do or 
think unkind things — nothing is truer or surer than that.” 

“Michael always says the same thing,” Margaret said 
eagerly. “He thinks unkind thoughts and uncharitable acts 
— ^want of love, in fact — ^the unpardonable sins.” 

“Both our men have the same name.” Hadassah’s eyes 
smiled. “I like your man so much, if I may say so. He 
is worth a great deal. We can’t expect big things to come 
to us in a small, mediocre can we?” 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


331 


‘T am so glad you like him,” Margaret said. ^^And you 
believe in him ? Your husband believes in him, in his • . 
she hesitated . . unpractical mind?” Hadassah’s un- 
derstanding and gentleness made her feel childishly weak. 
It would have been a relief to give way to weeping. Her 
nerves were at the point when any rebuke would have 
braced her; sympathy was undoing. 

‘Why, of course!” 

“May I tell you why I came?” 

“Will you have some tea first? You are tired !” 

“No thanks, really. I had numerous cups of coffee on 
my way here.” 

“Then let me hear all you want to tell me. Even if I 
can’t help you, I know how nice it is to talk over one’s 
troubles with another woman. You have lived very much 
cut off from women’s society all these months. Where is 
Mr. Amory ? Did he go into the desert? We haven’t heard 
of him or from him since he spoke to my husband about 
going off on a long journey. He had a great scheme in his 
head. He’s an odd creature.” She laughed. “You and I 
both like individualities, I think.” 

“He went into the eastern desert soon after you saw him. 
I haven’t heard from him since he went. His letters may 
have gone astray. But in the meantime a report has been 
spread abroad that he has taken a woman with him, a Mrs. 
Mervill. Have you heard of her?” 

“Millicent Mervill ? I know her I” 

“Well, she is in love with him. You know how beautiful 
she is. . . .” Margaret’s voice lost its steadiness. 

“Yes, and also I know how thoroughly lacking in morals. 
She is very well-known by this time. Last season she was 
the fashion; she entertained lavishly. This year she has 
thrown caution to the winds.” 

“She certainly has, for she has positively hunted Michael 
to earth.” 

“Michael Amory, of all men!” Hadassah’s laugh en- 


332 THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 

couraged Margaret; it was so expressive of what she her- 
self felt. 

‘‘Yes, I think she is annoyed because. . . Margaret 
paused “. . . well, I can’t express what I mean, but Mi- 
chael isn’t that sort. He would be her friend if she would 
let him, but friendship isn’t enough.” 

“I know what you mean. He certainly isn’t that sort, 
there can be no mistaking that.” 

Margaret smiled happily. “Then you believe he isn’t.?” 

“Of course! Who doesn’t.?” 

“My brother objects to my name being mixed up in the 
scandal.” Margaret had evaded answering Hadassah’s 
question. 

“But what scandal.?” 

“The reports that are going about that Mrs. Mervill is 
with him in the desert, that that is why I haven’t heard 
from Mike. Everyone is saying it.” Meg’s words con- 
veyed an apology for her brother. 

“Your brother really believes this, and yet he knows Mr. 
Amory.?” 

“Yes. But you mustn’t blame him. He has tried not 
to believe it ; he is really awfully good about it all. And 
I must admit that it looks as if the story was true, but I 
just know it isn’t.” 

“Of course it isn’t!” Hadassah said, almost sharply. 
“Who spread the report.?” 

“First it came from the native diggers in the valley, and 
then my brother heard it from Mr. King. Now lots of 
people are talking about it, and my brother wants me to go 
home. . . . I’ve promised to go if . . .” Margaret paused. 
“That’s why I came to you. I want your advice. If we 
could only hear from Michael, I know the whole thing 
would be explained. My brother would do anything he 
could to help me, but his business ties him and ...” again 
she paused and then said hurriedly, “You know what men 
are — ^he hates my name being bandied about.” 

“I’ll get my husband to comb out the truth from all 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


these lies.” Hadassah put her hand on Margaret’s. 
“You’ll laugh at your fears one day.” 

“If you only knew how thoughtless Michael is about the 
opinion of the world! If he isn’t doing wrong, he never 
stops to think what construction the world may be putting 
on his action, nor does he care.” 

“Personally I think it’s the malicious talk of some enemy, 
or of Mrs. Mervill herself. Can she have intercepted his 
letters, and spread the report so as to separate you?” 

“She may have followed him. If she is with him, she is 
self-invited.” 

Hadassah Ireton interrupted her. “Even Mrs. Mervill 
could scarcely do that !” 

‘^My brother says that I may wait in Cairo until we can 
find definite proofs one way or another. A letter may come 
from Michael at any moment. I know it will come if he is 
all right, but I’m so afraid he is ill — that is really what I 
came to ask you about.” 

“You want us to try to find out if he is ill?” 

“Yes, if you will, if it is not asking too much. Some- 
thing keeps on telling me that he is ill, that he is in need 
of help.” Margaret was speaking more earnestly and with 
less restraint. “I have had queer visions and many pre- 
sentiments since I lived in the Valley. I seem to be able to 
see beyond ... if you know what I mean. They have 
come true in many instances; it is not mere imagination. 
But perhaps you have as little belief as I once had in these 
things.?” 

“Where ought Mr. Amory to be just now — ^have you any 
idea?” Hadassah’s voice conveyed the idea to Margaret 
that the subject was too* serious to be spoken of hastily or 
decisively. 

“He ought to have reached his destination, the hills be- 
yond the ruins of Tel-el-Amarna. Did you know the object 
of his journey?” Margaret spoke nervously, shyly; she 
shrank from speaking of her lover’s belief in the treasure of 
Akhnaton. 


384 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


“Yes. He told my husband the twofold reason of his 
wish to make the journey. He believes in the theory that 
there is a buried treasure in the hills beyond Tel-el-Amama, 
where Akhnaton was buried, and I think he also wanted 
. . . what shall I say? ... to find himself — I suppose I 
must use that hackneyed phrase for want of a better — ^to 
find himself in the desert. Wasn’t that it?” 

“Yes. He is a bom wanderer.” Margaret said the words 
dreamily; her thoughts had flown to the luminous figure 
of Akhnaton. In this superb mansion, fashioned by Orien- 
tal genius and Eastern wealth and imagination, her vision 
took its place, not unnaturally, in the strange list of things 
which her eyes had seen or her mind had received during 
her life in Egypt. 

“Will you enjoy a wandering life? Don’t you think 
women like a home?” 

“With an intellectual companion any place is home ; with 
a stupid one a palace becomes a wilderness. I have learnt 
that in the desert, if I have leamt nothing else, I think. 
Michael could make a real home out of a bathing-machine 
and a box of books.” She laughed. “He is never dull, he 
doesn’t know the meaning of the word bored. His only 
trouble is that no day is long enough. He’d forget the 
dimensions of the bathing-machine — ^it would become to 
him a beautiful house like this.” 

“What a wonderful thing love is!” Hadassah said to 
herself, as she watched Margaret’s eyes glow and shine. 
Her thoughts had transformed her. “A wonderful and 
beautiful thing ! Whatever would the world be without it ? 
And yet there are some people who go through life without 
the faintest idea of what it really means !” 

“What we three have got to do,” she said aloud, “is to 
discover where the wanderer is. The sooner he is found the 
sooner he can start life in a bathing-box. I agree with you 
so far that I think it’s more than likely that he is ill — not 
necessarily seriously ill, but ill enough to have been de- 
layed on his journey. Still, that is not the only solution 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


of the problem. His letters may be lying in some native 
post-ofBce. I’ve known letters remain for weeks on end 
in out-of-the-way village post-ofBces. The official can’t 
read the address; he puts the letter aside until someone 
comes along who can. It may be sooner, it may be later; 
they eventually reach their destination.” 

Margaret smiled. ^‘Michael’s writing is not too clear — 
that may be the cause of the delay.” 

‘‘My husband has received letters which have been months 
on a journey which should have taken days. Time means 
nothing to desert peoples, as you know.” 

“You have made me feel much happier,” Margaret said 
brightly. She could have kissed the beautiful woman by 
her side out of sheer gratitude. 

For some time longer they discussed the subject more 
fully and laid their plans. 

Suddenly Hadassah said, “Where are you staying in 
Cairo.?” 

When Margaret told her the name of her hotel, she said, 
“You must come to us. We have lots of spare room in this 
big house, and if you are here we can work together so 
much better. The hotel is too public. It would really give 
us great pleasure if you will. I feel sure it would be wiser.” 

“How kind of you to ask me!” Margaret said. “I am 
quite a stranger to you! I’d love to come. Michael has 
told me something about your work among the Copts — ^in- 
deed, everyone speaks of it, of your new educational scheme 
and the progress you have made in so short a time. I 
should like to understand more about it, if I may.” 

“Perhaps our minds have met many times before, for I 
think we are scarcely strangers,” Hadassah said. “I hope 
you don’t feel towards me as one ?” 

Margaret looked pleased. “I have heard so much about 
you, about your work.” 

“It is very uphill work. You can only hope for very slow 
results amongst a people who have been scorned and perse- 
cuted and rejected for generations and generations. I, as 


336 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


a Syrian, know what social persecution means, so it is my 
highest ambition to do what little I can, with my husband’s 
help and my father’s wealth, to elevate the ideals and 
the moral standard of the young Coptic girls. You can do 
nothing, or next to nothing, with the older women. Their 
characters are formed, their prejudices too deeply-rooted.” 

‘‘I suppose so. It is the same in India — ^the women there 
are the bitterest opponents to the reforms for women. They 
cling to the suffering and oppression they endure.” 

^‘These Copts have absorbed so many of the worst fea- 
tures of the Mohammedan civilization — their superstitions, 
their domestic customs as regards the women, and a great 
many of their least desirable religious ceremonies. It is 
hard, for instance, for a stranger to distinguish between 
a Christian native’s marriage or funeral and a Moslem’s — 
indeed, it is often not easy even if you have a lifelong 
knowledge of the country. The finest qualities of Islam — 
and they are many — they have rejected, and for so doing 
they have suffered unthinkable hardships and persecutions. 
Bad as things are to-day, they were far, far worse in the 
days before the British Occupation, when the Christians 
were at the mercy of the fanatical Moslems.” 

^Tt is such a pity that the native Christian population is 
the one which no one trusts in this country. The Moham- 
medans are respected, the Copts are despised. I find that, 
even in connection with my brother’s work. The brains and 
industry of the country seem to belong to the Copts; the 
honour and reliability to the Moslems.” 

‘T know,” Hadassah said. ‘^And that’s what my husband 
and I are fighting against. He wants to prove that the 
people of any country and of any religion, even the Eng- 
lish,” Hadassah’s eyes twinkled, ‘Vill become degraded and 
untrustworthy in time, if they are persecuted and op- 
pressed. With the Christian element in Egypt, it has been 
a case of every man for himself and the devil take the hind- 
most. If we were to take some Coptic children and Mo- 
hammedan children, of the same social grade out here, and 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


337 


had them educated in England as Christians, you would 
soon see that it is not the Copts who ought to be despised, 
but their intolerant oppressors and persecutors.’’ Hadas- 
sah smiled. ‘Wou know. Miss Lampton, how easy it is to 
be good and strong when one is trusted and loved. Love 
makes finer, better women of us.” 

Margaret rose from her seat. ^^You have done me so 
much good,” she said. “I feel as if my world had been 
re-made.” 

‘‘That’s splendid!” Hadassah said. “I always try to 
remember that it is a privilege to suffer. It is one of the 
divine fires which tests us; suffering links us to the great 
brotherhood. You wouldn’t choose to be outside it. The 
older we grow the more we realize that it is suffering, not 
happiness, which makes the whole world kin.” 

Margaret’s silence, which often was more eloquent than 
other women’s speech, told Hadassah that she agreed. Suf- 
fering was teaching her its lessons. 

“When may we expect you.?” Hadassah said. “The 
sooner the better, don’t you think.?” 

“May I come in a day or two.? I have some business to 
do for my brother — I have promised to see one or two peo- 
ple for him; he is going home very soon.” She looked 
round the hall through which they were passing. “I can’t 
imagine myself ever really living here. It looks as if it 
had all been created by the wand of some magician for a 
princess in a fairytale. What a contrast to our hut in 
the Valley !” 

“You like it better than a new house in the European 
settlement.? You think I chose wisely.?” 

“Of course I do. Who wouldn’t.?” 

“This house costs us no more than a good flat would in 
the European part of the city, but you have to come 
through the native quarters to get to it, remember. Many 
people would object to that.” 

“I hate the European quarter of Cairo,” Margaret said. 
“It seems to me so vulgar and degenerate. The native 

22 


338 THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 

quarter is just what it sets out to be, no better and no 
worse.” 

‘‘Well, you must come and stay with us — my husband 
will enjoy showing you the hidden beauties of Cairo. He 
is devoted to it.” 

Margaret’s ears caught the sound of water. It was com- 
ing from a tall fountain which was playing in the centre 
of the outer hall. Above it was a pendentive roof, richly 
carved and coloured. A suggestion of turquoise-blue and 
the gleam of iridescent tiles showed through the clear 
water in the octagonal basin set in the floor. The jets of 
water came from a large ball of blue faience resting on the 
top of a slender spiral column. The fountain was only one 
of the beautiful features of that Eastern mansion which 
Margaret noticed as her hostess conducted her to the inner 
courtyard. 

“How enchanting it all is!” Margaret said. “I feel 
much too prosaic to imagine spending my everyday work- 
ing hours in it.” Her life in the hut seemed better suited 
to her practical nature. 

“I love it,” Hadassah said. “And I like its emptiness. 
That is the native idea. We have tried not to make it look 
like a mediaeval museum, not to stuff it up with things. 
It’s a great temptation.” 

“Its sense of space is its greatest charm. There is every- 
thing you can possibly want in it, and yet it has none of the 
absurd knick-knacks and useless lumber of Western houses. 
My brother and I have learned to do without so much that 
I don’t think we shall ever fall into the sin of overcrowding 
our rooms again.” 

Hadassah laughed. “Will you have the courage to burn 
family relics.^ — Aunt Maria’s uncomfortable ottoman. Aunt 
Elizabeth’s escritoire, which is too small to write at, and 
Aunt Anne’s firescreen with strawberries worked in bead- 
work 

“Oh, I know them all,” Margaret said. “Just compare 
them to these beautiful things I” 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


339 


“Don’t forget,”' Hadassah said, “that you are compar- 
ing the things of England’s worst period to the things of 
the finest period in Cairo. If you saw some of the native 
houses, furnished from the European store in the Ezbeki- 
yeh, you would think Queen Victoria’s private apartments 
at Osborne beautiful.” Hadassah’s voice expressed her 
meaning. 

“Good-bye,” Margaret said laughingly. “It is hard to 
believe that, but I take your word for it.” 

As Margaret walked through the outer courtyard, she 
kept saying to herself, “So that is the Syrian’s daughter, 
the girl whom the English people rejected and would have 
none of!” 

Freddy had often corrected his sister for her careless use 
of the word “beautiful.” He maintained that few people 
had ever seen a really beautiful human being. The Greeks 
idealized their models in their types of Venus and Apollo. 
Margaret felt that at last she could truthfully tell him that 
she had seen a beautiful woman, and that that woman was 
a Svrian, Michael Ireton’s “wife out of Egypt.” 


CHAPTER XIV 

When Margaret reached her hotel she was more than as- 
tonished to hear that in her absence her brother had called 
to see her. He had left a message to say that he would re- 
turn in half an hour. 

“How long ago was that.?” Margaret asked. 

The very grand servant, in his elaborately-embroidered 
and gold laced native dress, said, “About twenty minutes 
ago, my lady. The gentleman said that it was important 
that he should see you.” 

“I will wait for him on the terrace,” Margaret said. 
“Bring him to me directly he arrives.” 

She was so taken back by this inexplicable piece of news 


340 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


that she heard nothing more of what the man said. Why 
on earth had Freddy come to Cairo Margaret knew that 
he had business which was to have kept him four more days 
at least in Luxor. Her first thought was that he had heard 
something about Michael, but she doubted if even that would 
have made him neglectful of his duty. With Freddy his 
work and the responsibility it entailed came before every 
other consideration. Margaret had ever been mindful of 
the fact that her presence in the camp was not to interfere 
with his work. She knew him so well, or she fancied that 
she did. His coming must be in some way connected with 
his work. Perhaps he wished to stop her carrying out the 
instructions which he had given her ; he might have learned 
something in Luxor which had upset his plans. 

A few minutes before the half-hour was up, Margaret 
saw her brother walking quickly towards the hotel. The 
moment she caught sight of him, she left the terrace and 
hurried down the street to meet him. There was no one else 
within sight. He was walking with his head bent and as 
though he was deeply immersed in thought. 

When she got within speaking distance, she called out, 
^^Oh, Freddy, what is it.^ Why have you come.?” 

His expression had convinced her that something was 
wrong, that something very serious had brought him to 
Cairo. 

Freddy linked his arm in his sister’s and took a deep 
breath before he spoke. “Chum, dear,” he said, “I’ve 
brought bad news for you.” 

“Michael’s dead!” Meg stood still and dropped her 
brother’s arm. It was a pitiful face, that paled to the lips 
as her eyes gazed into Freddy’s. 

“No, Meg, Mike’s not dead.” 

“Then he’s dying, and you’re afraid to tell me!” Mar- 
garet strode forward, as if she was then and there starting 
off to find her dying lover. Freddy laid his hand on her 
arm. “Freddy, let me go!” she said impatiently. “Take 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


341 


me to him quickly. Wild horses won’t detain me !” She 
shook off his hand. 

‘^Steady, old girl. Let me tell you all about it. Mike’s 
quite well, so far as I know. I’ve heard nothing about any 
illness.” 

‘‘Then what’s the matter? iMore lies? Hadassah Ireton 
doesn’t believe a word of them! She is an angel — she is 
going to help me.” Meg’s head dropped; her chest rose 
and fell with suppressed emotion. 

“Don’t walk so quickly, Meg. I can’t tell you while you 
dash on like that. Have some pity on me — I hate my job.” 

Meg fell back. “Well, tell me — out with it!” 

“The Government has got wind of the ‘site.’ Michael’s 
discovery has been anticipated. Experimentary digging 
has begun.” 

“And where is Mike?” Meg’s eyes blazed. 

“That is just it ! He ought to have reached the hills two 
weeks ago, at least. While he has been idling, someone has 
played him false — ^betrayed him — informed the Govern- 
ment for the sake of the reward.” 

Meg gave a little cry. It lashed Freddy to fury against 
Michael ; it was the cry of a crucified soul. 

“It’s just his casual drifting again!” 

“But you didn’t believe in the treasure !” Meg’s loyalty 
was up in arms against Freddy’s voice of accusation. 

“I know I didn’t, and it’s yet got to be proved that it is 
there. But the fact remains that I heard from the Director 
of Public Works that a temporary camp has been pitched 
on the very site Mike was going for. The whole story is 
a complication of truth and fiction.” 

Meg spoke with difficulty. The agony at her heart was 
choking her. “Why have they suddenly sent excavators to 
that particular spot, if there is nothing there?” 

“On the strength of the information given by a native.” 

“And what had the native found? Isn’t it just too dia- 
bolical and wicked?” 

“It’s jolly hard lines, but if Mike had gone there straight 


342 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


and as quickly as he could, if he hadn’t played the idiot, 
he’d have been there before the native who has betrayed 
him.” 

While Freddy was speaking, thoughts came to Meg of 
her vision of Akhnaton, of the strange and occult incidents 
connected with the story of the hidden treasure. 

‘‘What do you mean by playing the fool.'^” she said. 
“Have you heard from Michael.^ Have you any reliable 
ground for supposing that he played the fool.'^” Meg’s 
voice was beautifully scornful. 

“I’ve heard again, that Millicent was with him. The 
facts are undeniable. The whole thing makes me furious. 
Why couldn’t he have written to me and told me, if she 
followed him, as you suggested? His silence condemns 
him.” 

“It makes me more than furious.” Meg’s voice was horri- 
ble in Freddy’s ears; it was older, shriller, cruelly defiant. 
“It makes me furious to think how easily evil is believed of 
the absent, who can’t defend themselves.” 

They strode along. Both were walking blindly forward. 

“It makes me sick, sick, sick !” She flung the words out 
and then broke into a little cry. “Oh, Freddy, have you no 
faith? no trust? Is that your friendship.?” 

“What can I do?” he said. “I’m not blinded with love 
as you are. I see things dispassionately. I want to do what 
is best for you. Why hasn’t he written ? I’m quite willing 
to believe what Michael tells me — I don’t doubt his word — 
but he has said nothing. This is another example of his 
weakness.” 

“Do you believe that Millicent is still with him?” 

“Her dragoman who took her into the desert has returned 
to Luxor. I haven’t seen him — ^he could tell us everything 
we want to know.” 

“The news came from him ?” Meg’s voice was a stinging 
reproach. 

“Yes. He only remained in Luxor a few hours; he was 
going to his home in Assiut, but he spread the story.” 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


343 


There was a pause. 

^‘He took Millicent to Michael?’’ 

‘‘He took her into the desert ; they met.” 

“And because we have had no word from Michael, no 
explanation, you are ready to condemn him.'^” Meg’s words 
were loyal, while her heart was torn with jealousy. 

“Meg,” said Freddy gently, “will you go home to 
England ?” 

“No.” The word came sharply, abruptly. 

“You promised, old girl.” 

“I never promised to accept the words of a dragoman 
against my own knowledge of Michael, against my con- 
science. I have another promise to keep, my promise of 
absolute trust.” 

“The dragoman can have no object in lying, and added 
to his report, there is the fact that if Michael had not dal- 
lied for some reason or another, he would have reached the 
hills long before this. He has allowed the Government to 
anticipate him.” 

“Freddy, I believe in God, and He has told me that Mi- 
chael is as true to me as I am to him.” 

“Poor old girl!” Freddy said tenderly. “You’re such 
a loyal old thing.” 

But Meg rounded on him ; she was a truer Lampton than 
she ever suspected. “Oh, don’t ‘poor’ me, Freddy! I 
can’t bear it. It sounds as if I were half an imbecile, or as 
if Michael was a villain ! I’ve got my wits all right — and 
Egypt has given me super-wits. It has shown me things 
beyond. If there is such a thing as conscience, then I 
should be sinning against mine if I doubted my lover for 
one instant.” 

“But didn’t you say that the Lampton pride would not 
be wanting when you really discovered that Mike had taken 
Millicent with him?” 

“And it won’t be wanting, if either Mike or Millicent tell 
me with their own lips that they have been together on this 
journey. I’ll start off home by the next boat.” 


344 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


‘‘Oh, do be reasonable, Meg! You won’t see either of 
them. If this thing has happened, they’ll keep out of the 
way. That’s why they are keeping silence.” 

“You are asking me to accept circumstantial evidence of 
what I call the lowest order — dragoman’s gossip. Well, I 
simply say I won’t do it.” 

“What about the time he has taken to reach the hills.?” 

“I don’t pretend to understand. Mike will explain when 
he gets a chance. I only know that he wouldn’t believe a 
word of the story if he heard that I had been away with six 
good-looking men who admired me.” 

Freddy gave a mirthless laugh. “There is safety in 
numbers, Meg. If he had the evidence you have, I wonder 
what he’d feel.?” 

“Just what I feel. I have seen Hadassah Ireton. Her 
husband will help me. He knew Mike; they planned this 
journey together.” 

“I wish you’d leave things alone. I asked you to.” 

“I can’t. Michael may be ill.” 

“It doesn’t sound like it. Bad news travels quickly.” 

“Look here, Freddy,” Margaret said, “you haven’t the 
slightest idea of what it feels like to be in love. When you 
do you will understand. What a lot you have still to learn 1 
You won’t believe any old lie that comes along about the 
girl you have vowed to trust and whom you believe in as you 
believe in your God. As lovers we Lamptons don’t deal in 
half measures.” 

“Then are you going to remain in Cairo indefinitely, 
waiting and waiting for Michael to come back to you, 
when he is away fooling with another woman?” 

“Don’t kill me, Freddy ! I can’t stand much more.” A 
sob burst from Meg’s lips. “All that’s best in me trusts in 
Michael and all that is bad doubts and distrusts. It’s the 
bad that is killing me. Do you understand.? For pity’s 
sake, if you care for me, don’t add to the evil, don’t give it 
the upper hand. Freddy, I need you, I need some trust 
to add to mine 1” 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


345 


‘T’d kill myself if it would help you, you know I would !” 

^‘Yes, I know it, of course I know it. I just go mad when 
you doubt him, Freddy, I see red. I could kill you. IPs 
because your doubts feed my evil thoughts. I can’t ex- 
plain, but I know what I mean myself.” 

‘T want to save you further pain, Meg.” 

‘‘Hadassah Ireton said, which is quite true, that it is 
sometimes a privilege to suffer. If only you, Freddy, won’t 
doubt Mike, I can endure almost anything. You’re just a 
bit of myself. I can’t bear you to doubt. It’s like my- 
self doubting and forgetting, forgetting the most beautiful 
thing in my life.” 

They had wandered on until they had come to the Nile 
Bridge. The sight of the tall masts of the native boats, 
silhouetted against the crimson of the evening sky, re- 
minded Freddy that already they had gone too far. He 
stopped abruptly. 

‘‘We must drive back, Meg, as quickly as we can. I’ve 
my train to catch. We shall only just do it.” 

“Did you come to Cairo on purpose to see mei^” 

Freddy had signalled to a cab — an open landau, of an- 
cient and decayed splendour, driven by two white horses. 
They came dashing up at a wild gallop. The native 
driver, in his red fez and white cotton jacket, barely gave 
Freddy time to jump into the carriage after Meg was 
seated when, with a noisy cracking of his whip, he urged 
the horses to a still more reckless speed. 

“I had to come. I was afraid you might get the news in 
some horrible way. You’ve been a brick, but you can’t 
think how I dreaded telling you.” 

“I’ve not been a brick. I’ve been horrid. I am always 
horrid nowadays.” Meg’s voice was contrite and humble. 

“I like you for it. We understand each other.” 

“You’re the dearest and best brother on earth, Freddy, 
and you know I think so, and yet I speak as if I hated 
you !” 

“We’re chums,” he said, as he put his hand on the top of 


346 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


Margaret’s. After that conversation became impossible. 
The horses were going at a mad pace, through crowded, 
noisy streets. Margaret was a little nervous, but she real- 
ized that there was only just time for Freddy to catch his 
train, if he allowed the coachman to take his own way, to 
drive in the arrogant native style. Every other minute she 
felt sure that they would run over a child or dog, or knock 
down a foot passenger. It seemed to be the privilege of 
anyone who could afford to pay for a cab to drive over 
pedestrians if they got in the way ; the humble poor were of 
less account than the dust beneath the horses’ feet. The 
coachman’s absurd cries to ‘‘clear the way” pierced Mar- 
garet’s ears without amusing her, while the cracking of the 
whip almost drove her to despair. The noise and crowd of 
idle human beings was bewildering to her nerves after the 
silence of the desert. 

At last they reached the station, where they had to say 
good-bye hurriedly and regretfully. 

“I’ll let you know,” Margaret said, “what Michael Ire- 
ton advises. Remember, I’m all right. Don’t worry. 
You’ve been a dear. It was awfully good of you to come.” 

“Good-bye, old girl,” he said. “Take care of yourself.” 

As Meg walked back to her hotel, she comforted herself 
with the assurance that Michael Ireton would find some way 
to help her. She visualized to herself repeatedly the per- 
sonality of Hadassah and her expression of absolute con- 
fidence in Michael Amory’s loyalty and honour. Her finer 
senses told her that it was natures like Hadassah’s, natures 
keenly sensitive to purity and uprightness, which could 
judge people like Mike justly. The magnet of righteous- 
ness draws kindred souls together. If Hadassah had 
doubted, then indeed she might have listened to Freddy’s 
counsel. Freddy was just and splendid in his way, but 
Margaret did not blind herself to the fact that his knowl- 
edge of human nature, even though it was singularly cor- 
rect in most instances, was derived from a more material 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


347 


source of evidence. His judgment was governed by his 
practical common sense rather than by his super-senses. 
Hadassah’s nature was tuned to the inner consciousness 
of human beings, as a musician’s ear is tuned to the har- 
monies and discords of music, even to the hundredth part 
of a tone. 

If a woman like Hadassah had doubted Michael, or given 
a moment’s thought to the gossip of the dragoman, Mar- 
garet’s faith might have been troubled. But as matters 
stood at present, she knew that she herself had a finer un- 
derstanding of Michael than Freddy possessed, in spite of 
his years, as compared to her own months of friendship. 
She tried to strengthen herself against the invasion of un- 
happy thoughts by thinking over in her mind all the vari- 
ous objects of beauty she had seen in the Iretons’ house. 
The picture of the cool courtyard, with the dark-leaved 
lebbek-tree reaching up to the romantic balcony, brought a 
smile to her lips. It was such an ideal setting for an East- 
ern Romeo and Juliet. Busy as she knew the Iretons’ life 
to be, their mediseval home suggested the repose and the 
charm and the romance of I^ove in Idleness! 


CHAPTER XV 

To assure herself of her complete confidence in the argu- 
ments which she had used to Freddy and of her own heart’s 
happiness, as a thing widely apart from her anxiety, Mar- 
garet dressed herself in her most becoming frock that same 
evening for her first appearance at the hotel table d^hote. 
She sat at a little table by herself in the enormous dining- 
room. The season was far advanced; the tourists in Egypt 
had aU returned to Cairo, there to disperse to their various 
countries. 

There were many fair and attractive women in the room, 
of widely varied types — Americans, Austrians and English ; 


348 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


that was how they took their place in the scale of beauty in 
Margaret’s opinion. Amongst them all there was perhaps 
no one who was more commented upon and admired than 
herself. Sitting by herself, for one thing, provoked curi- 
osity, while for another her claim to good looks had the 
high quality of distinguished individuality ; in an assembly 
of well-dressed women of the world, Margaret, like Hadas- 
sah, could never be overlooked. 

She had been out of the world of fashion and frivolity 
for so long that the gay scene interested her and made it 
easy for her to temporarily put aside her troubles. She had 
lived in the Valley, studying the lives and customs of lost 
civilizations until they had become a part of her own life. 
Now she found it amusing to be back again amongst the 
men and women of to-day, people who were, as she reminded 
herself, in their own little way creating history. They were 
as typical of the world’s evolution in the twentieth century 
as the Pharaohs in their tombs and the painted figures of 
men and women and dancing girls on the temple and tomb- 
walls were typical of the world’s evolution three thousand 
years ago. 

After dinner she drank her coffee in the fine lounge of 
the hotel, under tall palm-trees, while a Hungarian band 
played music which stirred her blood and pulses. It made 
her feel very much alone and a little desolate. She had 
been happier before the music began; it made calls upon 
her heart, it gave re-birth to a thousand wants. Her sense 
of loneliness increased as she watched more than one pair 
of lovers gradually drift off and settle themselves down 
somewhere out of sight. She heard one radiant couple 
making arrangements for going to see the Pyramids by 
moonlight. 

She had never seen the Pyramids or the Sphinx. Per- 
haps when she was staying with the Iretons, they would take 
her to see them. She had certainly no desire to make the 
excursion alone. 

i As she thought of the Pyramids, and Mike’s association 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


349 


with them, a wave of hate and rage spread over Margaret 
like a blush. She wondered if any of the curious eyes of 
the tourists had noticed it ; she had been conscious of being 
freely criticized all the evening. She looked about her 
quickly. The place had become almost devoid of young 
people ; only some elderly men and women were left, reclin- 
ing in big chairs. With the absence of youth, Margaret’s 
spirits sank very low; it was not bracing to her strained 
nerves and lonely condition to sit with the elderly invalids 
and watch them passing the time away in a semi-dozing con- 
dition until it was the recognized hour for going to bed. 

To be true to Michael she must not allow herself to grow 
despondent. Hadassah Ireton had gone through far 
greater trials and suffering than she was facing, and what 
had been her reward.?^ Margaret visualized her married 
life, her expression of happiness as she greeted her, her 
pride in the small son who was toddling at her side. It was 
a condition of life well worth suffering and waiting for. 

When the clock struck ten, Margaret rose from her re- 
tired seat. She felt justified in going early to bed after 
such a long and trying day. There was nothing better to 
do. As she entered the lift which was to take her up to. her 
floor, she suddenly found herself face to face with Milli- 
cent Mervill. 

She was so wholly unprepared for the meeting that she 
never afterwards was able to understand why she did not 
lose her presence of mind. It is on such occasions that the 
metal we are made of is put to the test. 

The two women faced each other in silence. The next 
moment the lift went swiftly up, and as it went, Margaret 
had but one clear thought — that she would stop at the first 
floor and get out ; she could walk up the remaining flight of 
stairs. The next second she realized that that would be a 
foolish and weak thing to do. It was her duty to speak to 
Millicent and learn the cause of the scandal from her own 
lips. She owed it to Michael. She must do the one thing 


350 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


which she could to clear his name of the dishonour of which 
Freddy accused him. 

Millicent was getting out at the first landing. The lift 
shot up so quickly that the silence between them had been 
of the briefest. Margaret left the lift at the same moment 
and again the two women stood facing one. another, as the 
gate closed behind them and the lift began its downward 
journey. 

^‘Good evening,” Millicent said gaily. never expected 
to have the pleasure of seeing you in Cairo.” A smile which 
might have hidden any meaning lit up her eyes and showed 
the perfection of her mouth and teeth. But even at that 
critical moment, Margaret was conscious that her beauty 
had lost something of its radiance. Had her youth, which 
had seemed eternal, vanished at last? Had it left her as 
rats leave a sinking ship? Had the gods recalled what 
had already tarried too long?” 

‘‘Good evening,” was all that Margaret managed to say. 
Her heart was floundering in a sea of anger ; her mind was 
struggling for wise words, words which would drag the truth 
from the pretty lips, playing over still prettier teeth. She 
was determined not to let the opportunity slip. 

But Millicent was too quick. She left Margaret no 
chance to take the lead in the conversation ; she seized and 
kept it to the end. Margaret should know just as much as 
she, Millicent, wished her to know, and no more. She 
meant to enjoy herself; the devout Margaret was going to 
receive some nasty knocks. 

“How is our mystic?” she asked lightly. 

The word “our” instantly deprived Meg of her resolu- 
tion to speak tactfully and even hypocritically, if it was 
necessary. Millicent did not wait for her tardy answer. 
Meg’s expression had flamed the devil’s Are of mischief in 
her callous heart. 

“Have you heard from him since I left him?” 

Here Margaret’s pride helped her. She threw up her 
chin, a trick with her when her fighting spirit was roused. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT S61 

^‘I really don’t know. I forget how long ago it is since 
you saw him.” 

left him almost within sight of his promised land, of 
his King Solomon’s mine. Has he found it? Were the 
jewels very wonderful.^” 

The woman’s audacity amazed Margaret, while it infuri- 
ated her, but thanks to the blood of her ancestors, a fight 
always braced her nerves and quickened her wits; it was 
tenderness which brought tears. She was not going to al- 
low the brazen little beast to know or see what her words 
meant to her; she was not going to tell her of Michael’s 
disappointment. If she had betrayed him and robbed him 
of Akhnaton’s treasure, she was not going to let her batten 
on the suffering she had caused, so she said : 

“My brother has just heard that information of the dis- 
covery has come to the Minister of Public Works. The 
Government has sent out some men to make the preliminary 
excavations, so I suppose it is all right.” 

Millicent’s eyes gleamed. Something like sympathy and 
pleasure beautified them ; for a moment her desire to wound 
the girl who had robbed her of the lover she desired was 
forgotten; it was lost in surprise. 

“'I’hen Mike was right He had really discovered his 
precious treasure, his legacy of Akhnaton.^ I’m so glad!” 
She paused. “I never really believed he would, did you.^ 
It seemed to me mere moonshine, a delightful excuse for a 
desert romance.” 

Margaret was still more amazed. What an actress the 
woman was I If she had not known her true character, she 
would have believed that she was innocent of the base treach- 
ery of which she was guilty. 

“Yes, it would appear so,” she said coldly. “But we 
know very little — we have only had the official news of the 
discovery. His letters will tell us more. Does the news 
surprise you .?” 

Millicent looked at Margaret keenly. Their eyes met as 
bitter antagonists. Millicent supposed that Margaret 


S52 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


thought that Michael would have written to her and told her 
the news ; she answered accordingly. 

^‘His breathless letters — you know how he writes — are 
probably resting in some desert village. They’ll come 
along all right. But I’m awfully glad the dear man hasn’t 
found a mare’s nest, aren’t you.^ She spoke again quickly, 
before Margaret had time to answer. ‘‘What does your 
brother say about it.^^ Isn’t he surprised He thought it 
was all tommy-rot, didn’t he? How different they are!” 

“It is always difficult to tell what Freddy thinks,” Mar- 
garet said. “He is a very reserved person. If the wht)le 
thing turns out as Michael expected, he will be delighted 
and interested.” 

“If there is anything there at all,” Millicent said, “that 
ought to be sufficient proof of the seer’s powers — I mean, 
things of Akhnaton’s period. The portable treasure might 
have been stolen — it probably was. If the saint had dis- 
covered it, why not others?” 

“I have had no particulars,” Meg said coldly. She felt 
certain that Millicent was pumping her for her own pleas- 
ure. 

“Your brother never mentioned the King Solomon’s mine 
of gold and the jewels,” Millicent said laughingly; “yet 
even my men were talking about it quite openly on my 
homeward journey. Mike and I were so careful — we never 
mentioned a word about it. To all outward appearances 
we were merely journeying in the desert for pleasure; our 
objective was to be the tomb where Akhnaton’s body was 
buried. They must have learned all about it from the holy 
man — tents have ears. You have heard all about our meet- 
ing with the ‘child of God,’ of course ?” She searched Mar- 
garet’s eyes as she spoke and then added lightly : “I should 
like to have seen Mike in his strange counting-house, count- 
ing out his money, shouldn’t you?” 

Margaret very nearly said, “You little liar, get out of 
my sight!” The sudden temptation to shake her was al- 
most past enduring; it was all she could do to keep her 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


363 


hands off her and remain silent. She had heard from the 
woman’s own lips what she had told Freddy she never would 
hear; her promise to him flashed through her mind. Her 
doom was sealed. The psychological and archseological in- 
terest of what Millicent had told her did not penetrate her 
brain; even her reference to their meeting with a “child of 
God” fell on deaf ears. Millicent had asked her if she had 
shared Michael’s beliefs in the occult and mystic interpreta- 
tion of the discovery, in tones which implied that she did 
not expect Margaret to understand or sympathize with that 
side of Michael Amory’s character. 

Margaret managed to keep her wits about her. The 
agony which she was enduring must at all costs be hidden 
from her enemy. 

With a calm that surprised her own ears, she said. “Did 
you enjoy your time in the desert Why did you return 
before the eventful discovery If you had waited, you 
would have seen Mr. Amory wading in the historic jewels.” 

Millicent was very quick. She had arranged in her own 
mind how much and how little she was going to tell Mar- 
garet. It was to be enough to ruin her happiness and 
trust in her lover, enough to rob Michael of the woman who 
had robbed her of him ; but not enough to let her know why 
she, Millicent, had flown from the camp. 

“Oh, we both loved it !” she said. “We had some unique 
and strange experiences, things we shall never forget. But 
I had to come back, my time was up. I am leaving for 
England on the twenty-eighth — I have so miach to pack and 
collect.” 

“It is getting very warm ” Margaret said. “The tour- 
ists are all going back.” 

“Oh, I never mind the heat — I like it — ^but unfortunately 
I have to go home — money matters. I’ve been rather lucky, 
in a manner — a rich relation in Australia died a few months 
ago and I have just heard that he has left me a nice little 
bit.” 

Millicent’s words instantly confirmed Margaret’s suspi- 
' 23 


354 ^ 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


cions. The unscrupulous woman had secured at least a part 
of the buried gold. Margaret wondered if it would be wise 
to attack her on the subject. She refrained; instinct cau- 
tioned her. With Margaret it was always a case of — When 
in doubt, hold your tongue. 

‘‘What a fortunate coincidence!” she said coldly. “How 
very odd I” 

Millicent looked at her sharply. What did her words 
mean? What was she driving at? Margaret never spoke 
unthinkingly. 

“I don’t understand what coincidence you refer to, but 
certainly I’ve been lucky as regards legacies and money. 
I’ve always been fortunate about money, but there is a say- 
ing that money goes where money is, and that if you get 
one legacy you will get three. I really could have done 
without the last windfall. I have enough of this world’s 
goods for a lone woman — if I had some babies it would be 
different.” 

There was a note of sadness in Millicent’s words which 
would have appealed to Margaret if she had not known 
what a perfect actress the woman was. How was she to 
believe anything she said after what she had done? 

“You needn’t let it be a burden to you.” Margaret pre- 
tended to laugh. “There are other people’s babies who 
have none. There are plenty of ways of disposing of 
super-wealth. Why not pay for the costs of some of the 
Egyptian exploration work next autumn? It would in- 
terest you and . . .” Margaret paused. “. . . it would 
be a suitable way of spending the gold. It would repay 
Mr. Amory.” 

In saying these words, Margaret felt that she was going 
as near to the point as she dared. As she said them, Milli- 
cent’s eyes hardened. She had spoken with sincerity when 
she said that she could have done without her uncle’s for- 
tune, for there were moments when she deceived herself into 
believing that if her grand passion for Michael had been 
returned, that if she had ever been loved as greatly as she 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


355 


felt that she herself could love, or if she had had any chil- 
dren, she would have been a good and noble woman. No 
chance of goodness had ever come her way, and she had 
never stepped aside to look for it. 

‘T don’t know about repaying Mike,” she said coldly. 
^‘There are some things which can never be repaid or 
bought.” Meg certainly got as good as she had given. ‘T 
never meant to suggest that I had so much wealth that it 
would be a burden to me. I think I shall find some way of 
spending it enjoyably.” She turned to the left wing of the 
corridor; her bedroom lay there. ‘^Now I must say good- 
night,” she said, still more coolly. ‘T have a great deal to 
do.” She looked down at her dress. ‘^My luggage has 
never come on from Luxor — it’s such a nuisance. I had to 
wear a Mug-out’ to-night, a blouse and skirt I wore in the 
desert. They have lain packed all that time — I never 
thought I should have to wear them again.” As she spoke, 
she visualized her last evening in the camp, when she had 
given Hassan her instructions for their flitting. She had 
worn the blouse that same evening. 

‘Tt looks very nice,” Margaret said carelessly. 

^^Oh, it’s terrible! I didn’t venture to come down to 
table d'hote in it — I dined in my room. Good-night.” 

“You still wear your eye of Horus.?” Margaret said; she 
had noticed the amulet the moment she saw Millicent in 
the lift. 

“Of course I It is my most treasured possession.” 

Margaret longed to tell her that she knew where the bit 
of blue faience had been found on the day when it was lost 
in the hut. She burned to say, “You little prying cat, you 
read my diary!” instead of which she said, quite calmly: 

“The Divine Eye ought to have known better than to be 
the cause of Mohammed Ali’s telling one of his finest lies.” 

“What do you mean?” Millicent asked. But even as she 
spoke, her face paled a little. “Your language has become 
quite cryptic — ^the result, I suppose, of your work in the 
tombs !” 


356 THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 

‘Probably,” Margaret said. ‘^Life in the Valley has 
taught me many things — buP first and foremost, above all 
others, it has shown me the power and the danger of hak- 
sheesh. Good-night,’’ she added quickly. “I’ve been keep- 
ing you.” 

Millicent looked at her with steely eyes. Meg’s words 
were not too cryptic for her comprehension. “Good-night,” 
she said. “When I hear from Mike, I’ll let you know.” 

When Margaret reached her room, she flung off her self- 
restraint. Catching up a sofa-cushion, she flung it at an 
imaginary Millicent; two more went flying in the same 
direction. 

“Oh, you beast, you hateful little beast!” she cried. “I 
believe you have won, after all! I wanted to find out if 
Michael was to blame, I wanted to make you confess that 
you trapped and followed him into the desert! And all I 
succeeded in doing was to hear from your own lips what all 
the hateful tongues 4n Egypt have been screaming and 
shouting in my ears for weeks past !” She sank down on 
the low sofa. “My pride spoilt ever 3 i:hing. I wouldn’t let 
you know that I cared, that I didn’t know a w:ord about 
anything, that I have never heard a line from Michael.” 
Her mind stood at attention ; a new thought held it. The 
holy man ! Millicent had spoken of the holy man. Was he 
the “child of God” who was to lead Mike to the hidden 
treasure.^ She groaned. Oh, why had she not questioned 
her, why had she not controlled her own anger and her 
pride, and learnt from Millicent a thousand things she 
longed to know.f^ She had not even asked her at what 
definite place in the desert she had left Michael ! She had 
asked her absolutely nothing which would help her to find 
him. She had only gleaned from her the one fact, the 
fact which made it absolutely imperative for her to return 
at once to England. Her pride was so cruelly injured 
that she accepted that fact as absolute. Even if Michael 
was entirely innocent of any dishonour to herself, it was 
impossible not to feel wounded and hurt to the quick by 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


36Y 


his silence. She had sworn to trust him, but was he not 
asking too much of human nature.'^ Might he not have 
given a thought to the fact that Freddy and all the world 
would condemn him.^ 

Of Michael’s health Millicent had told her nothing. She 
had spoken in a manner which suggested that she had left 
him in the enjoyment of perfect health. Her excuses for 
him to Freddy had melted into thin air. How was she to 
tell Hadassah Ireton.^^ Hadassah, whose complete trust 
had made her ashamed of Freddy. 

She had gone to her room early, but it was far into the 
night before she began to undress and get ready for bed. 
She was tired and unhappy and for once she allowed herself 
to accuse Michael. She began by saying that he had been 
thoughtless and neglectful, that he ought to have managed 
somehow to get a letter through to her as soon as Millicent 
appeared on the scene. She felt convinced that she would 
have contrived to let him hear under similar circumstances 
if . . . well, if she had wanted him to hear, if she had had 
a satisfactory explanation to offer. It was the horrible 
‘^if” which kept Margaret awake. That mustard-seed of 
suspicion grew and grew until its flowers of evil covered 
her whole world. Thought can make our heaven or our 
hell. Margaret’s thoughts that night created no divine vis- 
ion, no fair City of the Horizon. 

If Millicent had come back to Cairo, because of business, 
surely Michael could have sent a letter by her servants, even 
if he had not cared to entrust it into her own hands. That 
was the thought which triumphed — it shed its darkness over 
the things of light. 


358 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


CHAPTER XVI 

The next morning Margaret rose early. During her long 
and sleepless night she had reviewed her position over and 
over again ; there seemed to be no way out of it. She must 
and would keep her promise to Freddy. 

It is impossible to give a lucid interpretation of her tor- 
tured feelings In her practical, reasoning mind her 
thoughts were black and suspicious; her heart was full of 
doubts, anger, wounded pride; while in the background, 
still shining like the dim light on the horizon at the ap- 
proach of dawn, was her unconquerable belief in her lov- 
er’s honour. 

She felt compelled to act up to her practical judgment, 
to her promise that she would go home to England if she 
heard from either Michael’s or Millicent’s own lips that 
they had been together in the desert. But it was the hori- 
zon-light which helped her and made her able to bear the 
shock of Millicent’s brutal announcement. 

For one whole night she had faced the certain fact that 
Millicent had camped in the desert with Michael. Anyone 
who has considered the ceaseless workings of the human 
brain will understand what no pen could describe — ^the 
countless arguments for and against her lover’s honour 
which came and went in an endless rotation in Margaret’s 
mind. 

She was glad when daylight flooded the room and she 
could get up and take the definite steps which would settle 
her doom. There is nothing so unendurable as lying in bed, 
a victim to miserable thoughts. 

As soon as she was dressed she wrote a brief letter to 
Freddy. She felt like a criminal writing a warrant for her 
own arrest, but as the thing had to be done, it was best to 
get it over as soon as possible. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


869 


“Dear Chum, 

“Last night I saw Millicent Mervill and what she told 
me leaves me no choice. I will keep my promise and go 
back to England. A boat goes next Tuesday ; if I can book 
a passage I shall go by it. Until then I will stay with 
Hadassah Ireton. I like her most awfully. 

“Please don’t think that by keeping my promise to you 
I am condemning Mike or that I have given up hope that 
one day he will be able to explain everything satisfactorily. 
Don’t worry about me, dear old thing. I’m all right and I 
will take every care of myself, so keep your mind easy on 
that points I’m not nearly so wretched as I should be if I 
believed everything that this letter implies. 

“Yours ever, 

Meg. 

“P.S. — Millicent pretended not to know anything about 
the information which the Government has received. She 
told me, with an air of beautiful innocence, that an uncle 
in Australia had left her a nice legacy. Funny isn’t it ? I 
think I managed to behave pretty well — the shades of our 
ancestors guarded me, I suppose.” 

When the letter was posted, and could not be retrieved, 
Meg went into the coffee-room and tried to soothe her soul 
with material comforts. An excellent cup of coffee made a 
good beginning. The letter settling her fate was in the 
post-office ; she was going home to England in a few days. 
She was trying to swallow the hard facts with each mouth- 
ful which she drank. 

What a contrast her leaving Egypt would be to her 
arrival in the country ! How flattened out and disillusioned 
she would feel! What an ordinary, everyday ending to 
her vivid romance in the Valley ! When she thought of the 
little hut, almost hidden in one of the many wrinkles of the 
hills, she smiled. Her senses glowed; she visualized the 


360 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


arid scene, suddenly transformed into an Eden with Love’s 
passion-flowers. No garden in paradise could suggest to 
a Moslem mind diviner voices or greater radiance. Cairo, 
with its confusion of sounds and its medley of human races, 
was empty and meaningless; it was wiped out. She was 
once more in the Valley, where life was vital and human. 

After a little time of happy dreaming, the bitter fact 
came back to her, like a cold wind disturbing a summer’s 
heat, that she had actually written to her brother promis- 
ing him that she would go home. What would Hadassah 
think ? What did her own conscience say ? 

Yet only one hour ago she had felt convinced that she 
iwas doing her duty, that her honour and womanly pride 
demanded that she should keep her promise. She had 
nerved herself against a thousand inner voices to obey her 
brother. She blushed for shame. In writing the letter 
she had practically admitted Michael’s unfaithfulness as a 
lover. How could she have allowed herself to be so devas- 
tated by jealousy, have allowed her mind to be so concen- 
trated on the unlovely side of the story Even Hadassah 
Ireton had scorned it, while she, ‘Hhe mistress of Mike’s 
happiness,” had doubted and despaired! 

Poor Margaret! If she had been less human, her Valley 
of Eden had held no flowers. The desert had been a wil- 
derness indeed. 

The psychic and devotional side of her lover’s nature 
engrossed her thoughts She recalled to her mind all that 
he had taught and explained to her about the views and 
religion of the tragic Pharaoh, the world’s first conscien- 
tious objector. 

Since she had heard of the scandal, she had scarcely 
thought of the occult and psychic side of the journey. Her 
attitude had been self-engrossed and materialistic. 

She sighed. How difficult it was to drive self out of 
one’s thoughts, for was there anything as interesting in the 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 361 


whole of the wonderful world as one’s self, one’s miserably 
unworthy, puny self? 

Hadassah had truly said, ^^We have two selves . . . what 
armed enemies they are !” Surely she, Margaret, had more 
than two selves? It seemed to her that she had a hundred, 
for every hour of the day and year. 

Long ago, in her untroubled college days, she had been 
one woman, with one mind and one purpose — ^her intellec- 
tual work. Egypt had changed her. The great mother 
of the world-civilization had revealed to her some of the 
amazing secrets hidden in the human heart; from her im- 
mortal treasury of things good and evil she had bestowed 
upon her child the jewel of suffering, the pearl of passion. 
As a devout pupil Margaret had knelt at her knee. 

In her very modern surroundings she felt quite another 
being from the Margaret who had seen the vision of Akhna- 
ton in the Valley. She had allowed herself to forget that 
she had been instrumental in developing the psychic side of 
Michael’s nature The thought of it now seemed absurd; 
it was probable that her surroundings and her work had been 
accountable for the visions. Her imagination had uncon- 
sciously pictured them. 

And yet there was a sound argument against this com- 
mon-sense, practical view of the thing, for she had visual- 
ized almost exactly the type and individuality of a char- 
acter in history of whom she was totally ignorant. Even in 
the modern hotel, in her everyday surroundings, she could 
see with extraordinary clearness the rays of light which 
had surrounded that head. Nothing could ever obliterate 
the picture of the suffering Pharaoh from her memory. 

She had left the breakfast-room, and as she waited for 
!the lift to descend, she was almost afraid that it would 
bring Millicent down with it from the floor above. But it 
did not. There was a grain of disappointment in the ele- 
ments which made up Margaret’s feelings as she saw that 
it was empty. The Lampton combative instinct demanded 
a flght to the finish, and an open, broad-daylight attack. 


362 THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


CHAPTER XVII 

Margaeet kept her promise to Freddy. During the three 
days which she spent with the Iretons nothing transpired to 
make it possible for her to break it. No word, either by let- 
ter or by native word of mouth, had arrived from Michael. 

Even to Nadassah’s generous mind, Michael Amory’s 
conduct seemed strange and inexplicable. His silence, in a 
manner, condemned him as casual, even if he was not guilty. 
She began to wonder if he had been carried off his feet by 
Millicent, if he had been weak and forgetful of Margaret 
for a little time. Millicent would certainly have done her 
best to deprive him of his higher instincts and ideals. If 
he had been faithless to Margaret, he was the type of man 
who would exaggerate the sin. 

When she reviewed the situation calmly, she found that 
there was much to be said from Freddy Lampton’s stand- 
point, and Margaret herself was growing more and more 
wounded by her lover’s conduct — not so much by the fact 
that Millicent had been in the desert with him, for she knew 
the woman’s persistence, but by the lack of effort which he 
had made to explain the situation to her Even if he had 
allowed himself to be carried away by Millicent’s wiles, she 
would have forgiven him, for Margaret was very human, 
and she was no fool. Never had she imagined that her 
lover was a saint. What she felt it harder and harder every 
day to forgive was his silence, his want of courage, his 
lack of trust. 

During those three days Margaret’s beautiful world and 
life seemed to have crumbled into dust, just as she had seen 
the unearthed objects in Egyptian tombs crumble into 
atoms when the first breath of air from the desert reached 
them. Her contact with the world of to-day had melted 
her romance of the desert into thin air. It was a beautiful 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 363 


vision which her strange life had created ; It had flourished 
during her short stay In the Valley. It was not suited for 
the practical everyday world. 

While she was with the Iretons, she tried to Interest her- 
self In Hadassah’s work as much as possible. She con- 
trived very bravely to put aside her wretchedness and at 
least appear Interested and eager. 

Her dignity and self-control added greatly to Michael 
Ireton’s admiration for her. He, too, had been struck by 
her resemblance to Hadassah, so her beauty appealed to 
him very strongly. 

Hadassah and her husband allowed her to go home to 
England without protest. Cairo was becoming very hot for 
an English girl, and they both agreed that It might do 
Michael Amory good to learn, when he did turn up, that his 
conduct had hurt Margaret’s pride, that she was seriously 
wounded. As Mllllcent had spoken to Margaret of Mi- 
chael as being In robust health, they had banished the Idea 
that his silence was due to Illness. 

Outwardly Margaret behaved as though the whole epi- 
sode of her love affair with Michael Amory was at an end. 
A woman’s life Is dog-eared by her live affairs; this was 
the first In Margaret’s book of life. To the Iretons she was 
always very Insistent that there had been no formal en- 
gagement between them, that Michael had not allowed her 
to think of herself as bound to him In any way — for only 
one reason he had not considered himself justified In ask- 
ing her to become his wife or to wait for him. This to the 
Iretons meant nothing. He had made Margaret love him — 
that was the essential point — and his sensibilities must have 
told him that with such a girl love was no light thing. He 
must have realized that Margaret had given him the one 
perfect gift In her possession, an unselfish love. 

Margaret was very loyal to her lover. It was easy to be 
that, for In her super-senses she was convinced of his great 
love for her, as a thing apart from anything else. She 
found It wise to discuss the mystery of his silence less and 


364 THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


less, for she knew that no one but God knows what is in 
our hearts, or what He has put there for our consolation, 
and that to all outward appearances things looked very 
black for Michael. 

And so it came to pass that she sailed for England in 
the same boat as Freddy. He had hurried through his busi- 
ness and had managed to secure a passage, so as to look 
after her and be a companion to her on her disconsolate 
voyage. 

On the journey to Marseilles, Margaret discovered quali- 
ties in Freddy’s character which, even with all her love for 
him, she had never imagined. For her sake he contrived to 
hide his anger at Michael for his treatment of her, and thus 
express a sympathetic understanding of the temptations 
which had beset him. If Margaret had not suffered, he 
would have ignored the affair altogether, as a matter which 
did not concern him. 

Freddy was very far-seeing. Margaret had kept her 
promise; she had shown that in spite of her romantic love 
for Michael her womanly pride had not been wanting. Any 
opposition or harsh denouncement of her lover would have 
brought out the obstinacy in her Lampton character. Per- 
secution inflames the ardour of both love and religion. 
Margaret had confided to Freddy the true state of her 
feelings — ^her love was perhaps even greater than ever for 
the tardy Michael; jealousy had invigorated and reinforced 
it; but her pride and her love were wounded, and until 
Michael wrote to her or came to her, with a full and abso- 
lute apology and a good reason for his silence, she was de- 
termined not to play the part of a woman whose love would 
submit to any sort of casual treatment. 

Freddy was well content. Time would settle things; 
Margaret was very young; she was scarcely aware yet of 
the possibilities that were in her own nature, of the things 
which can make life worth living, as apart from love and 
its passions. Love had buried her under an avalanche of 
its mystery and revelations. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 365 


Their journey home was as uneventful as it was surpris- 
ing, for summer on the Mediterranean, where there is no 
spring, opened Margaret’s eyes to a new phase of Nature’s 
beauty. There was so much to see, and Freddy was such 
an excellent companion, that the time passed far more 
quickly and happily than Margaret could have believed 
possible. Did she know that it was the guarded light, 
which dispersed her brooding thoughts, thoughts which 
tried to spoil the beauty of the fairest scenes she had ever 
seen ? 

It was a voyage of solace and healing. As they sat to- 
gether, the brother and sister, idly watching the spell of 
light resting on an archipelago of dreaming islands, or 
sailed out of the Bay of Naples on a morning of tender un- 
reality, they little dreamed that in her womb the world was 
breeding a hellish massacre of God’s highest creatures, a 
wholesale slaughter of His children; that that same sum- 
mer’s sun was to fall on fields of crimson, dyed with the 
blood of civilized nations, precious blood drawn from the 
veins of patriots and heroes by the lies and lust of a war- 
mad king. 

Ischia, lost in its ancient sleep, cradled in the beauty of 
the world’s fairest waters, was to be waked with the bugles 
of war. From her mountain heights and her seagirt fields 
she was to send forth her sons, to fight until they became 
drunk with the smell of blood. 

How little did either Margaret or Freddy dream that 
they were gazing for the last time together upon a land of 
dreams, upon a world of peace ! As they sat and marvelled 
at a world which under a summer sun seemed as fair as 
heaven and as pure as an angel’s dream, they little realized 
that Europe nursed and flattered a people more steeped in 
iniquity and eager for licentious cruelty than any nation 
recorded in the world’s darkest story. The primitive bar- 
barities of uncivilized races, and the war-atrocities of an- 
cient Egypt and Assyria, which were familiar to Margaret, 
and against which Akhnaton had come to preach his mission 


366 THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


of peace, were as nothing compared to the acts which were 
to be committed by a nation which had preached the mission 
of Jesus for a thousand years, and had carried His doc- 
trines into the farthest comers of the earth. 

In the years to come that journey from Alexandria to 
Marseilles was to be one of the greatest consolations of 
Margaret’s life. 

In the days to come, when Margaret, knowing all things 
and enduring all things, looked back upon the journey, it 
comforted her to think of how much Freddy had enjoyed 
his well-earned rest and how eagerly he had looked forward 
to his holiday in Scotland. 

The war, which has set a date in England from which 
every event of importance counts and will be counted by her 
people for generations to come, had not been whispered or 
dreamed of by ordinary people. Like Ischia, England was 
still dreaming and trusting. Her ideals of honour forbade 
that she should doubt the honour of a sister-nation, bound 
to her by the closest ties of blood and sympathy. 

When Freddy and Margaret landed in England they 
went their separate ways. 

Margaret, at the outbreak of the war, at once offered her 
services as a V.A.D. Three months later she was working 
as a pantry-maid in a private hospital. Her work was very 
hard and deadly dull, but she had been promised that after 
working for a time as pantry-maid, she should be allowed 
to help in the wards. When Freddy left for the Front 
she was able to say good-bye during her ‘‘two hours off.” 

Fresh air and sunshine, after the dark basement-pantry 
in which she worked, seemed to her sufficient en j oy ment and 
all the pleasure she wanted. She seldom did anything in 
these hours but sit on a bench in the garden-square near her 
hospital and rest her tired feet. For the first month they 
were so swollen that she could not get on her walking shoes. 
By four o’clock she was back in her pantry again, setting 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 367 


out cups and saucers on little trays and laying the tea for 
the staff. Her work was lonely and unrecognized. 

After she had washed up and put away the cups which 
had been used for afternoon tea and also the cups which 
had been used for the last meal of the day, which was served 
at seven o’clock in the wards, she went home to her quiet 
room, in a house on the other side of the square. It was an 
old house, which had known better days. The locality al- 
ways carried Margaret’s mind back to the gay world into 
whose society Becky Sharp so persistently pushed her way. 

If Margaret was not happy, she was far too busy to be 
unhappy. She had, except for those two afternoon hours 
of rest, no time to think ; and as thoughts make our heaven 
or our hell, Margaret lived in an intermediate state, for 
she had none. Her physical tiredness dominated all other 
sensations. 

The war dominated her life; it drilled her, and drove her, 
and exacted the last fraction of her endurance and courage. 
It chased personal things away into the dim background of 
her life. When she thought of the Valley and her experi- 
ences there, it was as if she was visualizing, not her own past 
life, but some story which she had read and remembered 
with the sharp, clear memory, which never leaves us, of our 
childhood’s days. 

With Margaret, as with most people, the war opened up 
a completely new phase of mental as well as physical ex- 
periences. Nor could her thoughts ever be the same again. 
Margaret’s phase resembled the state of a patient gradually 
recovering from a serious illness, an illness in which she has 
faced the true proportions of the things belonging to this 
life, and the triviality of human tragedies as they had ex- 
isted before the war. Her life had begun all over again. 
The war was remaking it. After a serious illness or a shat- 
tered love-affair no woman can take up life at exactly the 
same standpoint as before. 

Margaret found it impossible to imagine personal ambi- 
tions and personal amusements ever forming a part of her 


368 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


life again. Happiness brought scorn with the very men- 
tion of it. The excitement and the daily-accumulating list 
of horrors which shocked the unsuspecting people of Eng- 
land during the first few months of the war, must be vividly 
in the reader’s thoughts while he pictures Margaret in her 
life as a pantry-maid, a physically-weary pantry-maid, in 
a vast house in London which had been converted into a hos- 
pital. She was only one of the many girls in London in the 
various homes and hospitals who were drudging with ach- 
ing limbs and loyal hearts from morning until night. 

She preferred being pantry-maid to lift-maid, which was 
the only other post in the house which she ’had been offered. 
Taking visitors up and down in a lift all day long seemed 
to her more monotonous than washing up cups and saucers 
which the wounded drank out of, and scrubbing boards and 
washing out cupboards. Margaret was only doing her 
humble bit, a bit which required few brains and little edu- 
cation ; a bit which necessitated a good deal of sturdy grit 
and devotion. Not a soul in the house knew nor cared any- 
thing about the life which she had led before the war, and 
her college record was of less account than the fact that she 
looked practical and strong. She had been given the post 
on the strength of her physical perfection rather than her 
proficiency as a V.A.D. 

During the first three months she heard fairly often from 
Freddy, who was cheerfully enduring what thousands of 
young Englishmen endured during the early days of train- 
ing. 

If this is a war of second-lieutenants, Freddy was an 
excellent specimen of the men who have won renown. His 
physique laughed at hardship; his practical mind adored 
the order and method which is essentially a part of mili- 
tary efficiency. His work in Egypt, far as it seems re- 
moved from modern warfare, served a good purpose when 
trench-digging and planning became a part of his train- 
ing. 

October had come and still no news had reached him of 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 369 

Michael, nor had Margaret had any word of her lover 
through the Iretons. Freddy was comforting himself with 
the assurance that the war had satisfactorily driven him 
out of Margaret’s mind. She seldom mentioned his name 
in her letters, which were as brief and matter-of-fact as his 
own. 

Sometimes in the busy London streets, and in crowded 
omnibuses, a vision of the Valley and the smiling Theban 
hills would rise before her eyes, but it would fade away and 
become as unreal as the Bible story of the world’s creation. 

Physical exhaustion made it possible for her to see these 
visions of the Valley, and the stars in the Southern heavens, 
with no throbbing in her veins or sense of Michael’s lips 
pressed on her own. Physical labour leaves little expression 
for fine sentiment and imagination. 

On the morning of the day when Margaret was to see 
Freddy off to the Front, she experienced a curious re-birth 
of personal existence; she was a partner in the world’s 
agony. Since her work had begun she had lived like a ma- 
chine ; she was outside the great multitude of the elect ; she 
had no one belonging to her in immediate danger. She had 
almost envied the personal anxiety of those who had their 
dearest at the Front. 

Having no right to indulge in personal troubles which 
were entirely outside the subject of the war and the world’s 
welfare, she had ceased to have any existence at all out- 
side her dull duties as pantry-maid. But on the day of 
Freddy’s departure she had a curious fluttering in her 
pulses, and a breathless excitement was in the background 
of all that she did. She found her hands trembling when 
she placed the cups in their saucers, or poured milk into the 
jugs. 

Freddy’s going was to link her to the great brotherhood. 
The consciousness of his danger would be like the weight 
of an unborn child under her heart. He was husband and 


24 


370 THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 

father and lover to her now; he seemed to be taking with 
him to France the last remnant of her girlhood. 

At Charing Cross she found the khaki-clad figure. He 
was waiting for her below the clock. His men, and hun- 
dreds of others, were sitting about at rest, on the few seats 
which had been provided for soldiers going to the Front, or 
on the floor. Most of the men were accompanied by proud 
and tearful relatives or lovers. It was an affecting and 
typical scene — a peaceful country suddenly torn and driven 
by the throes and novelty of war. 

Margaret had already witnessed such scenes several times. 
It always left her wondering how any order or method 
came out of such a bewildering mass of hastily-organized 
effort. 

Freddy looked so handsome in his uniform that Mar- 
garet’s heart felt bursting with tragic pride. Nothing was 
too good to die for England, but surely, surely Freddy was 
too beautiful to be blinded or disfigured by all the hellish 
contrivances which the brutalized enemy had proved them- 
selves past masters in devising ? Even in Egypt he had not 
been more sunburned, and never had his hair looked so ador- 
ably bright and youthful. Margaret could think of noth- 
ing but his beauty; it seemed to burst upon her suddenly 
and unexpectedly. 

Freddy was conscious of her pride and admiration, but 
being true Lamptons, their greeting of one another was 
characteristically brief. It was the first time that Freddy 
had seen his sister in her V.A.D. uniform ; his eyes took in 
all her points with one quick glance. She looked clean and 
slight and attractive, and conspicuously well-bred. Her 
abundant hair showed to advantage under her blue hat, 
while her teeth and her eyes seemed to Freddy remarkably 
beautiful. A V.A.D. uniform is not becoming, but if a 
girl is striking-looking, it accentuates her good points; 
frumps and mediocrities it extinguishes altogether. 

‘‘Come and have some tea,” Freddy said. “I’m fright- 
fully thirsty.” 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 371 


Margaret walked off with him proudly. He was her own 
brother, the Freddy she had worked with so long and so 
intimately in the little hut in Egypt, this alert, dignified 
soldier. The war was in its infancy; women were still 
thrilled by khaki, and extraordinarily proud of their men 
who wore it. Margaret felt so proud of Freddy that she 
was a little awed by him. In her heart she was kneeling at 
his feet, while in her subconscious mind there was a prayer, 
that his beauty and youth might not be spoilt, that his 
splendid manhood might be given back to England — it 
had other work to do. 

Her tea, which Freddy had ordered in the large tea- 
room at Charing Cross Station, proved very difficult to 
swallow. Something filled her throat ; it almost choked her, 
something which was a strange mixture of pride and tears 
and happiness. She had no desire to eat or drink ; she was 
quite content to sit still. All she wanted to do was just to 
be near Freddy and look at him. 

In this last half-hour, perhaps the last she would ever 
spend with him, there seemed to be nothing important 
enough to say. She certainly could not speak of the things 
which were in her heart. When people realize that they 
are together for perhaps the last time on earth, is there 
anything which is more eloquent than silence 

It was Freddy who came to the rescue ; he talked to save 
Margaret’s dignity. With his keen eye and appreciation of 
her character, he knew the fight she was making for self- 
control. His talk was of his men and of his life as an officer 
in the Army, and of the politics of the day. When he 
spoke of Ireland and of the satisfactory way in which she 
was behaving, their eyes met. 

The question in Margaret’s eyes was answered by a shake 
of his head and an immediate change of topic. 

‘‘Are you liking your work?” he said quickly. 

“It’s not thrilling, but it’s doing my bit.” 

“Splendid !” he said, and Margaret knew that he under- 
stood. 


372 THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


A little silence followed, and then Freddy said, in rather 
a shamed voice, ‘‘Look here, Meg, we’d better be practical. 
I’ve left all my things in order — if I don’t come back, you 
won’t have any difficulty. Of course, all I’ve got will be 
yours. There are a few things I know you’ll always look 
after, things I specially value.” 

Meg’s throat was bursting and her lips began to quiver, 
but she choked back her emotions and regained her self- 
control. It came to her quite suddenly, just after speech 
had seemed hopeless. 

“I understand — the Egyptian things. You can trust 
them to me.” 

“I know I can,” he said. “And do take care of yourself. 
. . . We’d better be making a move, I suppose.” 

They both got up and shook their uniforms free of 
crumbs. 

“I’m jolly thankful I managed to get the work in the 
Valley pretty well settled before this happened.” 

“It was a bit of luck,” Margaret said. “Doesn’t it seem 
a shame that all that wonderful work and all intellectual life 
must come to a standstill, everything must be put aside for 
the one job that counts — the killing of human beings.^ 
That is now the one and only thing that matters ; the most 
effectual way of killing masses of men is the problem which 
scientific minds have set before them !” 

Freddy looked keenly at her for a moment. Was Meg 
still imbued with Michael’s anti-war views England was 
at that moment tuned to such a pitch of war-enthusiasm 
that there was but one popular feeling and belief — that 
this war was sent to cleanse and purify the world, that it 
was a blessing in disguise, that but for this war England 
would have gone to the dogs. Anyone who dared to ex- 
press an opinion contrary to this myth was condemned as 
pro-German or unpatriotic. 

Meg felt her brother’s eyes questioning her. “Never 
fear,” she said. “If I don’t think that the war was neces- 
sary as the chosen means of arresting England in her down- 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 373 


ward course, I know that it has got to be fought to the fin- 
ish, I know that the Allies have to prove that they will not 
submit to Prussian militarism dominating Europe. I never 
believed in the rottenness of England, and surely the spirits 
of our young men who are fighting ought to prove that it 
isn’t England decadent, indeed!” 

‘‘You’re right,” Freddy said. “England wasn’t a bit 
rotten — or, at least, no rottener than she ever was, only the 
rottenness was all dragged into the limelight. Things are 
discussed in papers and from pulpits to-day which were 
never even spoken of between fathers and sons or hus- 
bands and wives in days gone by. If the war will stop all 
the absurd talk about England going to the dickens, it 
won’t be fought for nothing. We’ve decried our country 
long enough.” 

They had only four minutes before they had to part. 
Margaret was beginning to feel numb and speechless. 
Were these four minutes to be the last she would ever spend 
with Freddy, and were they to go on talking as if he was 
only going back to Oxford after the long vacation 

Two more minutes passed and they had said nothing that 
mattered. Truly words were given to hide our thoughts! 

As Margaret looked up at the clock, Freddy put his arms 
round her and held her closely to him. This was Meg’s 
first tender embrace since her farewell with Michael. It 
was very nearly her undoing. 

“Good-bye, old girl,” was all that Freddy said ; it was all 
he could say. 

Meg clung to him and kissed him silently. Freddy felt 
her agony. It was greater than his own, for he had many 
responsibilities on his mind, and the excitement of actually 
going to take part in the “real thing.” He kissed her with 
a tenderness which was almost a lover’s. 

Meg was still silent. She dared not attempt to speak; 
she knew that Freddy would hate tears. The next moment, 
after a closer hug, he put her decisively from him. 

“Time’s up, old girl! I must look after my men. We 


374 THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


are very much alone, we two. I wish I could have left you 
in someone’s care.” 

“I’m so glad,” Meg said, a little brokenly, “so glad it’s 
just we two. I’ve never had to share you with anyone — 
you’ve always been my very own.” 

Margaret knew that Freddy had made a covert allusion 
to the fact that if Michael had not failed her, she would, in 
the event of his death, have had a lover to comfort her. She 
chose to ignore his meaning, to speak as if Michael had no 
place in her thoughts. Freddy was not to be worried by 
things which were past and over. The war had made her 
independent. 

Freddy understood perfectly. They had reached the 
barrier; his men were filing through the open gateway to 
the platform. 

“Good-bye,” he said again, hurriedly. “Don’t wait in 
this awful crowd — I shan’t be able to speak to you any 
more.” His eyes looked into hers tenderly. “God bless 
you, Meg ! I hate leaving you all alone.” 

“Good-bye, Freddy.” 

Margaret’s lips said the words bravely. In her heart 
they expressed their old and grander meaning. 

She had turned her back on the khaki-clad men who were 
filing on to the departure-platform. Her silent prayer 
mingled with hundreds of others, travelling from proud, 
torn hearts, to the listening ear of the Master of that which 
is ordained. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 375 


CHAPTER XVIII 

The news of Freddy’s death reached Margaret only a fort- 
night later; it came to her from the War Office in the ordin- 
ary official way. He had not died, as he would have wished 
to have died, in action, in a great offensive against the 
enemy ; he had been sniped, shot through the head when he 
raised its brightness for half a minute above the parapet 
of his trench. His courage and ability had never been put 
to the test; he had fallen like a first year’s bird hit by a 
deadly shot. i 

His youth and brains and beauty were the offerings 
which he had laid on the altar of Liberty. Fame had been 
denied him. ' 

As England’s blackest days passed, and Margaret read 
in the papers the horrible accounts of the poisonous gas 
which was blinding and suffocating our men at the front, 
and when hospital nurses told her of the pitiful “gas” 
cases which they had seen, Freddy’s painless death became 
almost a thing to be thankful for. | 

Pessimism was running its course. Germany’s triumphs 
were magnified, the Allies’ work belittled. She had come to 
think that it could only have been a case of time before he 
would either have been permanently injured or killed; 
the death-rate of officers was terrible. Freddy had died as 
he had lived, an almost perfect example of England’s man- 
hood — 'a striking proof that her decadence was an ugly 
scandal, whose birthplace was Berlin. It was one of 
(Germany’s many clever forms of propaganda, intended to 
undermine England’s prestige in the eyes of neutrals when 
the “great day” came. 


376 THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


CHAPTER XIX 

A FEW weeks after Freddy’s death a curious thing hap- 
pened to Margaret, a thing which shook her nerves and dis- 
turbed the automatic calm into which she had drilled her 
thoughts. 

She was still a hard-working pantry-maid, doing the 
same daily round of apparently un warlike work. She was 
thankful that she had got it to do, and considered herself 
lucky, for the waiting lists of able and eager V.A.D.’s, 
whose names were down at hospitals and convalescent homes, 
ran into many figures, girls who were longing to be given 
any sort of occupation, however humble, which would place 
them amongst the women of England who were really in 
touch with the agony of the world. Margaret had still the 
promise before her of promotion, the hope that eventually 
she would reach the wards. Time would make its demands 
on the long lists of V.A.D.’s who were unemployed and 
eager for work. It would not be long before they would 
all be required. Someone else would step into her humble 
post when she was promoted. It was merely a case of pa- 
tience and pluck; the voluntary hospitals were dependent 
on voluntary aid. She gave hers gladly. 

It was a very lonely, self-contained Margaret who wan- 
dered about London during her ‘‘off -hours.” Two hours 
gave her very little time for making expeditions or seeing 
the sights of London, which were all unknown to her, so 
she spent the greater part of her time in the secluded gar- 
den-square close to her lodgings. It always reminded her 
of a small public garden in Paris, in the old-fashioned 
quarter of the city, in which she had lived for a year with 
a French family while she was perfecting her French. The 
odd mixture of people who frequented it, and monopolized 
the seats in it for hours at a time, interested her. The work 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


377 


which they brought with them was as diverse as it was 
peculiar. Not a few of the regular habitues made a home 
of it, even on wet days, only returning to their shelter to 
sleep. Youth and elegance seldom entered it, except, it 
might be, when a pair of lovers, of non-British birth, 
drifted into it, seeking refuge from the maddening crowd. 

A London church, as black and white with smoke and the 
wearing winds of time as the marble churches of Lombardy, 
raised its belfry, of unnamable architecture, picturesquely 
above the square on one side, while a portion of its grave- 
yard, which had been incorporated in the garden-square, 
and which seemed to Margaret in its shabby condition much 
older and more pathetically forlorn than the temple-tombs 
under the Thebian hills, attracted the aged and melancholy. 

Margaret was the only lady who ever patronized the 
bench-seats in this secluded city oasis! Her V.A.D. uni- 
form, and perhaps her air of unconscious dignity, defended 
her from any unpleasantness. She had never met with dis- 
respect or lack of courtesy. 

One of her chosen companions, an elderly, haggard wom- 
an, with a keen sense of humour and traces of lost beauty, 
who always brought a bundle of old rags and clothes to 
pick down, had made friends with her almost immediately. 
She proved a source of great amusement to Margaret. The 
woman’s occupation had caused her much speculation. 

! She soon discovered, for the woman was not at all reti- 
cent, that she had been a low comedian and a dancer at 
Drury Lane Theatre, and like most comedians, high trag- 
edy was her passion, and had been her ambition. 

Margaret’s off -hours flew on wings while she listened to 
the woman’s accounts of her dramatic experiences. She had 
seen her days of prosperity and undoubtedly enjoyed much 
admiration. She was no grumbler and still retained an 
appetite for life. The sparrows and the fat pigeons which 
waited for the crumbs which fell from the pockets of the 
clothes she unpicked were her friends; her dreams of the 
past were her recreations. 


378 THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


When Margaret discovered that her desire for theatre- 
going was still unabated and unsatisfied, and that she con- 
sidered that there was no pleasure on earth which wealth 
could bring her to be compared to the excitement of a ^^first 
night,” as viewed from the gallery, she determined to give 
her a treat. She had not been to the theatre for many 
years; the necessary shilling for the gallery was never 
forthcoming; picking down old uniforms was not a lucra- 
tive occupation. 

Margaret contrived to put the necessary shilling in her 
way by leaving it lying on the seat when she got up. 

When she appeared in the garden-square the next day, 
the aged comedian told her about her ‘‘find,” and asked 
her anxiously if she had lost a shilling. Margaret lied 
nobly; yet her lie was only half a lie, for she certainly had 
not lost it. She had vividly realized the finding of it. 

Margaret never laid out a shilling to better account. It 
was returned to her fourfold as she listened to the glowing 
descriptions and the good criticisms of the first performance 
of one of the most popular war-plays which had been 
played in London. 

And so the days passed and ran into each other, imper- 
sonal and unselfish days. The story of Margaret’s indi- 
vidual life was marking time; but if her romance was ar- 
rested, her sympathies were expanding. It was impossible 
for her to be dull, and she did not allow herself to be sad. 
Freddy’s example forbade self-pity or repining. 

Of society in London she knew nothing and cared less. 
The war had put “society” out of fashion. If she could 
count amongst her friends many strange and questionable 
characters, they helped and cheered her as nothing else 
could have done. More than one poor home in which there 
was little food and much courage looked forward to the 
visits of the tall, dark girl, whom they called by no other 
name than “Our V.A.D.” 

It was her intimate acquaintance with the inner life of 
some of London’s poor, and the example they unconsciously 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 379 


set her by their cheerful acceptance of their pitiful circum- 
stances and hideous surroundings, which made Margaret 
see how contemptible it would be to indulge in self-pity 
or repining. They expected so little, while she wanted so 
much — perfect happiness as well as worldly prosperity. 
They contrived to get enjoyment out of life even when it 
seemed to her that they would be better dead. She had a 
thousand things in life which had been denied to them. 
How could she expect to be given everything. There she 
was face to face with crowds of human beings who exag- 
gerated their joys and rose above their afflictions. The 
unconquerable courage of the poor — that was what life in 
London was teaching Margaret. 

It was one wet afternoon when she was seated in a Lyons’ 
tea-shop, in a crowded part of a West End shopping dis- 
trict, waiting for a cup of coffee to be brought to her, that 
the strange incident happened. To make use of her time, 
she had taken out a small writing-tablet which she carried 
in a bag with her knitting, and was beginning to write a 
letter to her Aunt Anna. She had written the first words, 
‘‘Dear Aunt Anna,” and she paused before writing further. 
Her pencil was close to her tablet; her mind was thinking 
of what she was going to say. Suddenly her hand began 
writing very fast, automatically, something after the man- 
ner in which an actor writes on the stage. Margaret let it 
write swiftly and uninterruptedly, without either consid- 
ering it strange that it should be doing so, or wondering, 
at the time, what she was writing. Her thoughts had, in a 
curious way, become subservient to her actions. After- 
wards, when she tried to remember what she had felt, she 
could recollect no impression. 

When the quick movement of her hand stopped and the 
[automatic writing ceased, her powers of thought seemed 
suddenly to reassert themselves. Probably what she had 
been writing was mere unintelligible scribble. 

Margaret had never heard of the writing of the “unseen 


380 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


hand.” She was more nervous than she was aware of ; there 
was a heavy beating at her heart, a wonder in her mind. 
She looked with apprehension at the sheet of paper on the 
tablet. Her hand had certainly written something, but the 
writing was not her own. It was untidy and broken. She 
tried to read it, but the first words made her so nervous that 
she could not go any further. They brought the colour 
flying to her face, but it quickly left it ; she became wide- 
eyed; her hands trembled. It was horrible to think that 
some outside influence had taken possession of her actions. 
She fought for self-control, and managed to read the mes- 
sage. 

‘‘The rays of Aton, which encompass all lands, will pro- 
tect him, the enemy will fear him because of them. The 
living Aton, beside Whom there is no other, this hath He 
ordained. The Light of Aton will scatter the enemy and 
turn his hand from victory. When the chicken crieth in 
the egg-shell. He giveth it life, delighting that it should 
chirp with all its might. The same Aton, Who liveth for 
ever. Who slumbers not, neither does He sleep, knows the 
wishes of your heart. The Lord of Peace will not toler- 
ate the victory of those who delight in strife. His rays, 
bright, great, gleaming, high above all earth. . . .” 

There the writing became almost indecipherable; many 
words were quite meaningless ; only the end of the last line 
was distinct: 

“To the mistress of his happiness, Aton the Loving 
Father, giveth counsel.” 

When Margaret had finished reading the amazing thing 
that her hand had written, she was faint and frightened. 
What had come over her? How could she account for the 
mysterious thing which had happened ? 

The state of her nerves prevented her thinking connect- 
edly or sensibly. The meaning of the message scarcely 
formed any part of her bewilderment ; it was the automatic 
writing itself which disturbed her. It made her very un- 
happy. She had never heard of anything like it happening 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


381 


to anyone else. She wished that she had only dreamed it; 
but there the words were, lying on the tablet before her. If 
she was real, they were real. 

It was so long since she had read anything about Akhna- 
ton’s Aton-worship that she could not have composed the 
sentences in exactly the manner of the Pharaoh’s writing if 
she had set herself down in a retired place and tried very 
hard to remember his style and his language. Here, in 
this modern and vulgar tea-room, filled with men and youths 
in khaki and shop-girls in cheap and showy finery, she had 
suddenly and unconsciously written a thing which had abso- 
lutely nothing to do with her thoughts or surroundings. 

The girl who brought her coffee and was standing wait- 
ing to make out her bill, looked at her sympathetically and 
asked her if she felt ill. 

At the sound of her voice, Margaret dragged her 
thoughts back to the fact that she had been waiting for a 
cup of coffee. 

^‘No,” she said, jerkily am not ill, only a little tired, 
thank you.” 

‘Wou’re working hard, I suppose? One coffee, three- 
pence,” she jotted down. ^^Are you in a hospital? I wish 
I was nursing, instead of doing this.” 

Margaret looked at her blankly for a moment. She 
wished that she would not talk to her; she felt afraid of her 
own answers. 

‘^No, I’m not nursing — I’m a pantry-maid in a private 
convalescent hospital.” 

‘Well, I never!” the girl said; she was not ignorant of 
Margaret’s good breeding. “Do you like the work?” 

“It’s very like your work, I suppose. I never stop to 
think about whether I like it or not. Someone has to do it, 
and I’ve been given it — every little helps.” 

“Isn’t that splendid?” the girl said. “And I don’t sup- 
pose you ever worked before?” 

“Not in that way,” Margaret said. She smiled a queer 
sort of smile, as her thoughts flew back to her work in the 


382 THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


hut, the cleaning and sorting of delicate fragments and 
amulets which had been made and treasured by a people 
of whom the girl had probably never even heard, the mas- 
cots and art-treasures of a forgotten civilization, which had 
lasted for thousands of years. 

Margaret paid for her coffee, and looked at the clock. 
She had only a few minutes in which to drink it. She 
poured in all the cream which she had ordered to cool it, but 
still it was too hot to drink. While she waited she wondered 
whether her hand would write anything else if she left it 
lying on her writing pad. Nervously she took up her pen- 
cil and while she tried to sip her coffee, she left her right 
hand lying on the pad just as it had been before. 

Nothing happened. Her hand never moved; she was ex- 
tremely conscious of her own feelings and expectations. 

She looked at the writing on the tablet once more. Yes, 
it was totally and absolutely unlike her own. She tore off 
the sheet on which it was written and folded it up and put 
it safely in her note-case. If she was to drink her coffee, 
there was no more time for thought. 

Hurriedly she left the crowded tea-rooms and started off 
in the direction of her hospital. 

It was well for her that she had to hurry, and that her 
thoughts for the next few hours had to be given to the 
carrying-out of everyday things. With practised mind- 
control she put the incident of the ^^unseen hand” away 
from her as far as she could. When it came creeping back 
again, like leaking water, into the foreground of her 
thoughts, she fought it splendidly. 

Freddy had so extremely disliked her dabbling, as he 
called it, in occult matters, that for his sake, for his mem- 
ory, she must not allow herself to be mastered by it. She 
had scarcely ever allowed herself to think even about her 
vision in the Valley for this very reason, and had refused 
to be drawn into the wave of fortune-telling by palmistry 
and by crystal-gazing and psychic sciences which the war 
had given birth to in London. The nurses and the staff 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 383 

generally at the hospital spent a great deal of time and 
money on palmists. 

Margaret could honestly say to herself that no one had 
sought those strange experiences less than she had, no 
one had been less interested in Spiritualism and black 
magic, as it used to be called, than she had been — and, in- 
deed, still was. Michael had called her his practical mystic, 
yet she had never felt herself to be one. 

For Freddy’s sake she would not encourage this new 
phase of the super-mind which had suddenly come to her. 
He had considered Spiritualism a dangerous and undesir- 
able study. With only his memory to cling to, she would 
do nothing which would cause him any trouble. Here again 
was the Lampton ancestor-worship developing to its fullest. 


CHAPTER XX 

When Margaret got back to her hospital, she found no 
time for psychic reflections, for news had come that a 
fresh consignment of patients was to arrive at the hospital 
the next morning, and as the number was considerably more 
than they had expected, or the wards had beds for, it meant 
that the staffs, from the humblest to the highest in com- 
mand, had plenty of extra work to do. 

She did a hundred and one odd jobs which kept her busy 
until nine o’clock A V.A.D. whose duty it was to run the 
lift was ill ; she had had to go home, so Margaret took her 
place until a girl-scout appeared, who was a sister of one 
of the staff-nurses. The proud girl-scout became lift-boy 
in her after-school-hours and kept the post until the V.A.D. 
was well enough to resume her work. During the day 
the V.A.D.’s filled the post between them, taking it in turn. 

It was not until all her work was done, and Margaret was 
alone in her bedroom, with its air of ghostly fashion, that 
she found it increasingly difficult to drive the incident of 


384 THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


the automatic writing from her mind. She did not wish to 
think of it because of her promise to Freddy. While she 
had been busy it had never entered her head. Certainly 
Satan finds some mischief for idle thoughts as well as for 
idle hands to do. But was it Satan who had sent these 
thoughts.? Was she dabbling in black or in white magic.? 

She wondered whethei^, if she looked at the writing once 
more, and thought over every incident of the strange occur- 
rence which had happened to her, very clearly and thor- 
oughly, it would help her to drive it from her mind, in the 
same way as saying some haunting lines of a poem over and 
over again will often drown their insistence in our ears. 
Certainly she must make an effort to free herself from the 
obsession of the incident. It was unnerving her. 

She took the sheet of paper out of her note-case and read 
the writing on it aloud, very distinctly and slowly. She 
said the words thoughtfully, so as to get their precise 
value. As she read them, she tried her utmost to subdue 
the increasing nervousness which they produced, a nerv- 
ousness which she certainly had not in any way experienced 
when her hand had hurriedly written down the 'words. 

As she read them aloud, she realized, with a sudden and 
astounding clearness their true meaning, which had either 
escaped her intelligence, or she had been too astonished and 
interested in her own action to appreciate before. Her 
first feeling had been one of amazement and interest; now 
she felt quite convinced that the message had been sent to 
her to tell her that Michael was at the Front, that she was 
not to trouble or be afraid, for his safety was in divine 
hands. 

How much or how little her super-senses had understood 
this fact she could not be certain. Her over-self was an 
independent factor. Her natural consciousness had cer- 
tainly not appreciated the news. She had never said the 
fact to herself, or derived any comfort from it, or ques- 
tioned it. She had been too overwhelmed by the practical 
evidence that she was once more in touch with her vision 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


386 


to grasp the real purpose of the message. Its value had 
been lost upon her, even though it had told her that Mi- 
chael was fighting, that he was in the war. But was he.^ 
That was the question which her natural mind forced upon 
her. She must take it on faith or reject the whole thing as 
a fabrication of her own brain. 

The writing had told her that the Light of Aton would 
guard him, that the rays of Aton, which were God’s symbol 
on earth, would encompass him and confound his enemies. 

To the reasoning, practical Margaret it seemed incred- 
ible nonsense, and yet Egypt had taught her that nothing 
is incredible. She had thought of many solutions of the 
problem of Michael’s disappearance, many answers to her 
riddle of the sands, but she had, to her conscious knowledge, 
never once imagined that he would be taking part in this 
most horrible of all wars. Knowing his views upon the 
subject of war, the possibility had never entered her mind 
that he might have volunteered to fight in it. He had said 
over and over again that Germany’s desire for war was a 
myth, a mere mania which obsessed a certain class of mind ; 
that if such a thing happened it would be the death-blow to 
the spread of Christianity, and rightly so, for a religion 
which had done no more for the most scientifically-advanced 
race in the world was not likely to be adopted by non- 
Christian races. 

And yet the hand had written words which could have no 
other meaning. She had no friends or relations at the 
front. Her first cousins were all too young, and their 
fathers too old, to fight. Freddy had represented her per- 
sonal and intimate interest in the army at the Front. 

She read the words over and over again, until she knew 
them by heart, until the strange handwriting which her own 
pencil had formed had become familiar to her. She knew 
that she could never have written the words except by some 
outside power. But what was that power.? Had anyone 
else ever experienced it.? Was it known to Spiritualists? 

As she asked herself the question, a picture formed itself 

25 


386 THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


in her mind of Daniel interpreting ‘‘the writing on the 
wall” to the guests at the feast of Belshazzar. She saw 
,the hand write the three words: Numbered, weighed, di- 
vided, She saw the wonder of the King and the curiosity 
of his friends. God only, who sent the omen, explained 
it, and all which Daniel under His direction uttered, ex- 
plaining it, was fulfilled. 

Egypt had reconstructed in Margaret’s mind the proper 
proportion of time as applied to the history and evolution 
of the world’s civilization. The deeds and the victories of 
Cyrus, the grandson of Nebuchadnezzar, were not mythi- 
cal deeds because they belonged to a mythical and lost age. 
In Egypt they had seemed to her legends of a compara- 
tively late date. Darius, the Mede, to whom Biblical au- 
thority awards the succession of the kingdom of the van- 
quished and slain Belshazzar, was removed by almost a 
thousand years from the world which had known the gentle 
King, the youthful Pharaoh, who loved not war, and whose 
God was the Prince of Peace. 

As compared to Michael’s beloved Akhnaton, Belshazzar 
was a mere modern. Almost one thousand years before the 
impious King had reigned over Babylon, Akhnaton had 
told the Egyptian people of the unspeakable goodness and 
loving-kindness of God, he had preached a religion which 
was to abolish all wars, which was to unite all nations under 
the banner of universal brotherhood. 

The Biblical handwriting on the wall had come into her 
thoughts for a good purpose. The vision of it had been 
sent to prove to her that such things had happened in the 
world before, and that there was no reason to believe that 
they had not often happened since. God works in a mys- 
terious way His wonders to perform. 

Her fight against her desire to believe had been solely on 
Freddy’s account. He had so intensely disliked her in- 
terest in occultism that for his sake she had struggled faith- 
fully to subdue it. Now she knew that she could no longer 
ignore the influence which had entered into her life in this 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 387 


strange manner, not understood by her material self. She 
possessed powers and qualities which with all her heart she 
wished that she did not possess. She dreaded this last evi- 
dence of the mysterious power which had made her very 
actions subservient to its will. 

Yet even as she said the words she was ashamed. If the 
message had any connection with the figure in her vision, 
how could she hate it? Instantly the tragic eyes, glowing 
with the light of divine love, were before her; their re- 
proach and pity made her blush, for in denying her belief 
in things spiritual, she was surely denying the power of the 
Holy Spirit in just the same way as Peter had denied and 
mocked at Jesus for His assumption of divinity. 

Believing, with the intuition of her higher self, with her 
divine mind, whose reasoning powers were in heaven, like 
the desert child of God — for so the everyday world would 
say of her if they had known — in the spiritual source of 
the amazing message, she ceased to question the why or the 
wherefore of it. She could not treat it as the mere crea- 
tion of her own overwrought imagination, and yet she 
would be true to Freddy in the sense that she would do 
absolutely nothing to get into closer touch with the world 
behind the veil. She would make no effort to develop her 
powers. 

On that point her conscience was absolutely clear. She 
had been loyal and true to Freddy ; she had left all occult- 
ism’ and mysticism severely alone. And surely never in the 
world had her mind been farther separated from things 
Egyptian or occult than on this afternoon, when she had 
suddenly felt her hand begin to write of its own free will.'^ 
Of all people in the world, her Aunt Anna was the last who 
would call up any suggestion of her vision in the Valley, 
and Freddy would agree that a Lyons’ tea-room was amaz- 
ingly unsuited for such an experience. 

She puzzled her brain to find out any reason why this 
message should have been sent to her at this particular 
time, why Michael had been thrust so vividly into her life 


388 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


again. Her pride had driven him from her mind until he 
had at last actually lost his place in her daily thoughts. It 
would be impossible now not to think of him ; she was think- 
ing of him with a beautiful rebirth of her first romantic 
love. 

Was he, with all his horror of bloodshed and war, in the 
trenches while she was snug and sleeping in her bed at 
night Were some mangled and unrecognizable fragments 
of his body lying on the battle-fields of Flanders ? Or, sad- 
der than all, had he, like Freddy, never been in action.^ 
Had his life also been a useless sacrifice? 

As she asked herself the question, the bright rays of Aton 
shone round a figure in khaki ; she saw Michael clearly and 
beautifully. He was illuminated by a bright and shining 
light. Margaret remained motionless and spellbound. Her 
visualizing was more than a mere mental reproduction of 
an imaginary scene. The bright light which surrounded 
Michael revealed to her how instantly his enemies would 
quail before him, how terrified and amazed they would be! 

In an ecstasy of wonder and surprise Margaret called 
to him. Her voice broke the spell; her eyes saw nothing, 
nothing but the shadows and the half-lights shed by her 
inadequate gas-jet in the large room. 

She fell on her knees beside her bed. She must get closer 
to God, she must feel Him, for there was no human being in 
whom she could confide. She was terribly alone; her body 
hungered for arms of sympathy, her mind for understand- 
ing ears. The lonely and love-starved will know how she 
craved to be gathered up and comforted; how she longed 
to throw off her self-reliance, to let it be lost in a strength 
which would make her feel like a little child in a giant’s 
arms. As only God knows what is in our hearts, only God 
understood her unspoken prayer. He was not shocked by 
its pitiful humanity. That night He permitted the tired 
V.A.D. to sleep in the strength of His everlasting arms. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 389 


CHAPTER XXI 

Some few days later a letter arrived for Margaret from 
Hadassah Ireton. It contained interesting and surprising 
news. Michael Ireton had been thrown in close contact with 
one of the excavators who had formed the camp in the hills 
behind Tel-el-Amama — ^they were now both employed in 
the same Governmnet office in Assiut. 

From the excavator Michael Ireton had learned that the 
secret police had traced the movements of the native who 
had given the Government the information about the cham- 
bers in the hills, and had discovered him. But, as bad luck 
would have it, he was ill with smallpox and incapable of 
giving any information. The man had died without re- 
covering consciousness. The excavators had become more 
and more convinced that he had stolen the treasure, and 
that it was now resting in its second hiding-place, await- 
ing, it was to be hoped, its final discovery. 

If the man had recovered, his information could no doubt 
have been bought. To an Eastern a guinea in the hand is 
worth twenty in the bank. 

The reason, Hadassah explained, for the excavators’ be- 
lief that there had been a hidden treasure, of jewels if not 
of gold, was the fact that half a mile or more beyond the 
site of the excavation three uncut jewels of considerable 
value had been found in the open desert. They had been 
covered and hidden from sight by the drifting sand, and 
there they would have lain perhaps for ever but for the 
stumbling of a tired donkey, which was carrying a native 
and a huge load of forage to a subterranean village, not 
very far from the site of the excavation. The disturbing 
of the sand had exposed the jewels, which caught the sun- 
light and the sharp eyes of the desert traveller. 

He was an old man, exceedingly honest, uncontaminated 


390 THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


withi the ways of city dwellers, so he took the jewels to the 
Omdeh^s house and asked him if he thought that they were 
valuable, and if they were, what he should do with them. 

The OmdeJi (it was the same Omdeh who had so little 
credited the story of the hidden treasure when he had 
spoken of it to Michael) was as surprised as he was sus- 
picious. His interest was aroused. Could these fine jewels 
have been dropped by the thief who had burgled the tomb.^ 
These were his thoughts, although Hadassah did not know 
it. 

He at once carried them off to the Government camp in 
the hills. The excavators pronounced them to be ancient 
stones of great value. 

The other reason for their belief that the treasure had 
been stolen was the fact that the inner chamber, in which 
they had found absolutely nothing, had obviously been built 
with a view to holding objects of great value. It had all 
the qualities of a royal treasury. The inscription on J:he 
wall spoke of it as ‘Hhe treasure-house of Aton.” That no 
ancient plunderer had entered this chamber, which the her- 
etic King had cut out of the rock under the hills behind 
the city, was obvious. There had been practically no ex- 
cavating to be done, in the sense in which Margaret thought 
of excavating, because the chambers were all in a state of 
perfect preservation; none of them were blocked up with 
rubbish. Once the entrance had been opened up — ^and this 
had been done by the native who had discovered the site — 
they met with little difficulty. 

The entrance had been so skilfully hidden, that the exca- 
vators wondered how it had happened that the ignorant 
native who gave the information had discovered it (this 
Hadassah considered extremely interesting and convincing 
from Michael’s point of view) and what had put him on 
the track of the hidden treasure. 

These questions, Hadassah said, her husband had re- 
Ifrained from answering. He considered that the treasure, 
in its second hiding-place, belonged to Michael, that it 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 391 


must remain there until he found it. Michael Ireton had 
listened to all that the excavator had to tell and had held 
his tongue on the subject of Mr. Amory’s expedition; the 
psychical part of it would probably have called forth much 
derision and scoffing. 

Hadassah ended her letter by congratulating Margaret 
on the fact that the treasure, whether it was great or small, 
did exist, that it was an actual fact. The finding of the 
jewels proved that Michael’s theories and occult beliefs were 
justified. ‘‘And after the war you will be able to go with 
him on his second pilgrimage, for certainly the spirit of 
Akhnaton has saved the treasure for him. What the world 
calls chance has preserved the King’s legacy from profane 
hands.’’ 

• • • • • 

The letter was written from the Fayyum, where Hadas- 
sah was staying with her boy. Her constant visits to this 
beautiful oasis had wrought great changes in the house in 
which her cousin Girgis had spent the greater part of his 
life. Her aunt and cousin had, with native quickness, 
learned to speak English quite fluently, and Hadassah had, 
by her tact and sympathy, helped to develop their lives 
and intellects. The household was scarcely recognizable 
as the one in which, only a few years ago, she and Nancy 
had endured a terrible half-hour at afternoon-tea. 

Hadassah often wished that Girgis could have seen the 
development and change which the widening influence of 
Western ideas had brought about in his old semi-native, 
semi-European home. 

In all things relating to the war it was an ardently pro- 
English household, which, ever since its outbreak, had be- 
come a veritable institution for Coptic war-workers Veiled 
figures hurried to it, carrying their knitting, proud and 
pleased to be imitating the efforts of the European ladies 
in Egypt, and knit they did from morning until night, with 
the patience and endurance of the uncomplaining East. 

Hadassah’s letter greatly disturbed Margaret. If it had 


39 ^ 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


only come before Freddy was killed, how she would have 
gloried in it, how delightful it would have been to tell him 
that even a scientific body of excavators had come to the 
conclusion that a treasure had been laid up by the religious 
fanatic — for that was Freddy’s summing-up of Akhnaton 
— ^that the seer’s vision had again proved true ! 

But now she had no one to rejoice with. Freddy had 
- been taken from her, and Michael was lost, and there was 
not a creature^in all her world who would care one brass 
farthing about the strange materializing of Michael’s spir- 
itualistic theories. All that she cared most about she had 
to subdue and crush back. Probably Freddy, in his new 
life, was understanding and sympathizing, for she knew 
now with a nervous certainty that the veil is very thin. 

Hadassah had said in her letter, when referring to the 
death of the native, ‘^This sounds as if Millicent’s servants 
had played her false. The police report that she never 
reached the hills, so whether her dragoman deliberately took 
her off the track, and allowed one of her servants to go to 
the hills and secure the treasure, remains a mystery which 
may never be solved. But one thing is pretty clear — that 
her cavalcade was never seen in that part of the desert, for, 
as you know, the drifting sand in Egypt carries informa- 
tion; it conceals and reveals many things undreamed of in 
our Western philosophy.” 

As Margaret read these lines she cursed her own stupid- 
ity with a bitter curse. If she had used a little more tact 
and shown less jealous rage, she could have learnt from 
Millicent all which now so baffled them. She could easily 
have discovered if she had ever reached the hills. 

Margaret was rereading the letter in her off -hours. Her 
first reading of it had been very hurried, for it had arrived 
by the first post, and she had only found time to devour it 
with eager eyes, eyes which searched its pages for one pre- 
cious item of news. She was scarcely conscious of her de- 
sire for news of Michael’s whereabouts. There was always 
the hope, unexpressed even to herself, that he had written 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 393 


to the Iretons. If he really was at the Front, surely he 
would have told them? But the letter contained no such 
information. 

Her disappointment was, however, drowned in surprise 
and pride. With one fell swoop the letter had obliterated 
the passion and obsession of war which had held her in its 
clutches. It made her forget, for a little time, at least, that 
such a country as Germany existed. Her mind was again 
vivified with visions of the desert and the various scenes 
which Hadassah’s letter suggested. Flashing before her 
eyes was the open desert, the unbroken light, and the 
stumbling donkey, heavily-laden and meekly submissive, 
with the gleaming gems, betrayed by the rays of Aton. 
She could visualize the astonished native fingering them 
and holding them up to the light; the sunlight, Akhna- 
ton’s symbol of divinity, was to bear testimony to the fact 
that the bright objects which had caught the Arab’s eyes 
were beautiful and rich-hued gems, that they were indeed 
a portion of the treasure which he had hidden from the 
avarice of the priests of Amon, who set up graven images 
and worshipped false gods. 

For the first time since she had been doing the work of a 
pantry-maid, Margaret set out the tea-trays and washed up 
the cups in an automatic, aloof manner. Her material 
body was busy in the hospital-pantry, while spiritually she 
was far away. Visions rose and faded before her eyes in 
rapid succession, but the one which she saw oftenest was 
the look of surprise and smiling incredulity on Freddy’s 
face. The cry in her heart was for his sympathy, for his 
knowing, for his congratulations on the wonderful piece of 
news. Why could he not have been allowed to know it while 
he was still alive on this earth and able to talk to her? She 
wanted to be personally and materially close to him while 
he read the letter. 

She longed for that more ardently and whole-heartedly 
than anything else ; she hungered for it even more fiercely 
than the coming back of Michael, whose return into her 


394 THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


life she was convinced would eventually happen. Whether 
it would be for her happiness or otherwise she was ignorant. 

When she thought of his coming and of her first meeting 
with him, her pride rose up in arms, her mind was devas- 
tated with embarrassment. The meeting would open up old 
wounds, which she had imagined were healed. There she 
had been mistaken ; they were like the wounds of a patient 
which appear to be healed while he lies at rest in the hos- 
pital, but which break out again when he resumes his normal 
life. The war had drugged Margaret’s senses. 

She had curiously little fear for Michael as a soldier, for 
whenever she thought of him as one, as fighting at the 
Front, she saw the bright light surrounding him, and dis- 
arming his amazed opponents. 

During the short time which Freddy was at the Front, 
how different her thoughts had been ! His beauty and abil- 
ity seemed to say to her, as she watched him on that mem- 
orable afternoon at the station, ‘‘Whom the gods love die 
young.” He seemed to typify to her England’s brave and 
beautiful young whom the war chose for its victims. The 
wages of the war were England’s youth and devotion. She 
knew that much as Freddy loved his work and enjoyed his 
life, he would be the last to grudge his death. It was she 
herself who so ardently wished that he had died in action ; 
that his brains and ability had been given a chance ; that he 
could have done as he would have wished to do, taken a life 
for a life; that he could avenge in honest warfare the hide- 
ous death of his comrades. 

The letter from Hadassah made Margaret realize the 
awful fact that Freddy was dead as nothing else had done, 
that his death meant that she could never, never again con- 
sult him, or speak to him, or hope to hear from him. It 
was not only a case of patience and the distance of half the 
world between them ; it was a case of never, never again on 
this earth. She had scarcely known the meaning of death 
until this starvation for his sympathy revealed itself to her. 
The awful difference between mere distance and death had 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 395 

escaped her. Hundreds of men were dying, but death was 
talked of unconvincingly, superficially. 

Now, by some strange means, she suddenly saw the years 
of doing without Freddy stretching out before her. The 
Valley where his work lay would never see him again. His 
brains and extraordinary energy were lost to the world ; his 
archaeological work would be taken over by others. 

The pent-up tears which Margaret had not shed when 
she received the news of his death, or during all the busy 
days which followed it, mingled themselves with the unre- 
strained weeping which Nature sent to save her over- 
wrought system. She cried uninterruptedly, until the urg- 
ency of tears subsided. She dried her eyes and braced 
herself up. Her weeping had stopped suddenly; it had 
exhausted itself. 

It seemed to her that she could almost hear a voice re- 
peating to her a sentence out of Hadassah’s letter It was 
strikingly like Hadassah’s own voice. ‘^Try to remember 
that your wonderful brother is still doing his bit. He is 
working hard, wherever he is — ^be sure of this, for it is 
what he would wish.” 

Margaret carried this thought in her mind as she re- 
turned to her pantry; Hadassah was right. Freddy was 
working; wherever he was, he was busy, for he could not 
be happy if he was not working and helping on the cause 
of the Allies. Freddy had been one of the few enthusi- 
asts in the early days of the war who had never pretended, 
even to himself, that England’s primary ob j ect in declaring 
war against Germany was to avenge the devastation of Bel- 
gium. He knew that England had to enter it to save her- 
self and France from a similar devastation. 

When she was busy at work again, Margaret said to her- 
self, “Of all the strange things which have happened dur- 
ing the last six months, perhaps the strangest of all is the 
fact that in all the wide world, the only human being to 
whom I should dream of applying for help or for sympathy 


396 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


in the things that matter is Hadassah Ireton, Hadassah 
the Syrian, whose marriage with an Englishman of good 
family would have so shocked and horrified me not so very 
long ago !” 

A smile of amusement changed the expression of her face. 
She was thinking of Hadassah, as she really was, and of 
the outcast Hadassah as she would have pictured her. The 
smile lost itself in the shame with which the memory of her 
ignorance and prejudice filled her. How well Hadassah 
and her husband could afford to forget the narrow-minded- 
ness and the conceit of it all! 


CHAPTER XXII 

And now to return to Michael. During the weary weeks 
of anxiety and suffering which Margaret spent in Egypt 
before she sailed for England, Michael lay hovering be- 
tween life and death in the Omdeh^s house near the subter- 
ranean village in the Libyan Desert. 

Abdul had taken him there when he gathered him up in 
his strong arms on the eventful evening when he left the 
excavation-tent in the hills. A violent attack of fever, 
made more serious and difficult to throw off by the over- 
wrought condition of his nerves, kept Michael a helpless 
exile in the hands of the hospitable but somewhat ignorant 
Omdeh and the devoted Abdul. 

When the fever was at its height, Michael was very often 
delirious; in his ramblings he let the discreet Abdul see 
deep down into the secret hiding-places of his heart. Some- 
times he spoke in English, and sometimes in Arabic. Abdul 
could understand a great deal more English than he could 
speak, and as Michael often repeated the same thing in 
Arabic — when he thought he was addressing Abdul — he 
soon found the key to much which, without the Arabic 
translation and constant reiteration, might have escaped 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


397 


his understanding. Arabs learn a language with extraor- 
dinary rapidity; it is no unusual thing to meet a drago- 
man who can understand three or four languages, and 
speak a fair smattering of each; the same man is probably 
unable to read or write in any one of the four. From the 
deep waters of affliction came strange and terrible revela- 
tions, of desires and temptations which the conscious man 
had not allowed himself to recognize. In his helplessness 
they leapt forth and proclaimed themselves unmistakably. 
He innocently betrayed the nature of the woman who had 
earned Abdul’s hatred. 

At other times he called upon Margaret and implored 
her forgiveness, denouncing the woman who had followed 
him. He cursed her in horrible words. Even Abdul was 
surprised at their impiety. Once, when Abdul laid his 
fine fingers on his burning forehead, Michael took his hand 
eagerly and tried to kiss it. The next instant he rejected 
it and with the strength of delirium threw it from him and 
tried to get out of bed. 

^‘That’s not Margaret’s hand.?^” he said angrily. ^^And 
I want no other woman than Margaret. I have told you 
that before — I belong to Margaret, I am Margaret’s body 
and soul. I told you that the first time we ate our meal 
together, even before your white tent went up.” 

When Abdul managed to subdue his master’s fears, he 
laughed wildly and idiotically. ^^Of course it is only you, 
Abdul. I had forgotten. I seem to forget everything 
... I thought that . . .” here his words became inco- 
herent. “I was so tired, Abdul, and you were sitting up in 
the sky above the horizon ... so very tired.” 

Abdul fanned his babbling master and offered him a 
cooling drink. Michael swallowed it eagerly; his bright 
eyes gazed pitifully into Abdul’s after the last drain was 
swallowed 

^^Don’t let the other woman come near me,” he pleaded. 
^^She is wearing all Akhnaton’s precious stones — they are 
hung round her neck, her breasts are covered with them. 


398 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


But her skin is so white and tender, the sun is burning it — I 
must lend her my coat.” He laughed horribly. ^^Mean Ut- 
tle beast, Abdul, how frightened she was ! The saint gave 
me the amethyst — it’s for Margaret.” 

Abdul listened to these strange outpourings with the 
philosophy and trust of a devout Moslem. If Allah willed 
it. He would let his master recover. He had put the Ef- 
fendi in his care, and no trouble was anything but a pleas- 
ure to him if it brought some sense of ease and comfort to 
the delirious Michael. 

The Omdeh was the very soul of hospitality. He ob- 
served the teachings of the Koran in the spirit as well as in 
•the letter. He spoke no English, so he was ignorant of 
all that Michael’s delirious words conveyed to Abdul. On 
his master’s concerns, Abdul was a well of secrecy. 

By night and by day he heard him go over the same 
ground again and again. His life in Egypt for the last 
few months was expressed in broken sentences and vivid 
declarations, uttered sometimes with astonishing gravity 
and lucidity. At times Abdul was deceived into thinking 
that he was conscious, that his reasoning powers had re- 
turned, that he was quite sensible. But he was soon un- 
deceived by a sudden breaking-off in the continuity of the 
words, or a return to confused, half-meaningless sentences. 
It was only by the constant repetition that Abdul learned 
the whole truth. A bit out of one raving fitted into an- 
other, and things hard to explain were made clear. 

Once he said very gravely, “Hadassah Ireton will help 
Margaret, the beautiful Hadassah. She is more beautiful 
than Margaret, Abdul, much more beautiful, but Margaret 
is the mistress of my happiness.” 

Abdul answered by saying, ‘‘Aiwah, Effendi, she is your 
guarded lady, she will be the mother of your sons.” 

^‘She who sends me to rest with a sweet voice, and with 
her beautiful hands bearing two sistrums.” 

Abdul was ignorant of the fact that his master was 
quoting the words of Akhnaton, as written in the tomb of 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


399 


Ay In reference to his queen. He thought they were his 
master’s own words, and so thinking, his heart was cheered, 
for Michael’s voice was gentle and reasonable. But the 
hope was suddenly wiped out. 

‘‘Are the camels ready, Abdul We must get away, get 
away from the woman It’s the only way. And you 
thought I cared, you came in sorrow to tell me that the 
little beast had slipped away, just while Margaret was 
standing among the daffodils. I heard her calling, calling 
in the breeze. I was in England with Margaret.” 

Abdul saw that he had been mistaken. His master had 
never been sensible ; he was declaiming again, in his high- 
pitched, unnatural voice. 

“I was a Christian — ^they wouldn’t allow me to see the 
holy man buried. But he gave me the jewel, the gem pre- 
cious beyond all rubies. Abdul covered his poor body with 
quicklime; he said it would prevent infection. Freddy 
won’t believe it, Margaret, so we won’t tell him — he would 
only laugh. ‘A child of God shall lead you’ — ^that is what 
the old African said. But I never told Freddy ; he thinks 
I stand on my head . . . Abdul ! Abdul !” Michael’s cry 
was ringing forlorn. “Do you see the Government &3ig? 
It’s all up, Abdul, it’s all moonshine! We’re too late, too 
late. Freddy will say that Millicent detained me! Is it 
the fluttering flag of the saint It was Millicent who saw 
it in the sunlight.” 

In despair Abdul recited a sura from the Koran. “The 
God Who gives a good reward for the good deeds of His 
creatures, and does not waste anyone’s labour.” 

Michael took up the last words of Abdul’s prayer, in the 
w^ay in which a delirious mind will often carry on a sen- 
tence which drifts to the brain. 

“Nothing is ever wasted, Freddy — I’ve fold you that 
over and over again. You say I waste my time. You won’t 
say so, when you see the jewels. The saint kept it in his 
ear, Abdul — wasn’t that clever for a child of God ! Look, 
look, Abdul!” Michael stared into the distance; his eyes 


400 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


became transfixed ; he was excited, strong physically. 
‘‘Millicent’s small breasts are so white, so white and fair. 
Her two breasts are like two fawns that are twins of a roe, 
that feed among the lilies. They are covered with jewels, 
they catch the sunlight. How beautiful she is! Do you 
see her, Abdul She is walking in the air in front of me, 
all the way, Mohammed Ali’s ‘golden lady.’ ” 

Abdul applied a wet towel to his master’s burning tem- 
ples. He sank back on his pillow exhausted; his voice be- 
came low and feeble. 

“The little white tent, it is always calling, calling, its 
open door is always inviting me. Why does it say, all day 
long, ‘Turn in, my lord, turn in’ ? But Margaret came to 
me, she saved me. Listen — can you hear the bells, Abdul 
I heard them in the night, they sounded like the bubbling 
of water. Then peace came, peace, when the woman had 
sneaked away. Freddy always said I walked on my head, 
Abdul; he always declared that the whole affair was moon- 
shine, no one in their senses would believe it. I always 
believe in people who have no sense, for God gives finer 
senses to people who have no sense. Sense never sees be- 
yond, Abdul.” 

Often he became very wild ; broken sentences would pour 
from his lips, the foolish, unmeaning ravings of a fevered 
brain. 

After these wild outbursts intervals of exhaustion would 
set in, in which he would lie in a semi-conscious state of still- 
ness. On one such occasion the stillness was suddenly 
broken by the solemn recitation, in exactly Abdul’s devout 
tones, of the Mohammedan rosary. When he reached the 
sixty-third attribute of God, he repeated it with great 
unction. Then his pious tones suddenly changed to a 
querulous cry. 

“Abdul, why do you go on saying ‘O Source of Discov- 
ery’.^ You know that we’ve discovered nothing, nothing at 
all. It’s all mere moonshine. I wish Abdul would stop — 
he’s sitting in the sky above the horizon, repeating those 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


401 


same silly words over and over again ! If I could only get 
at him . . . but the horizon never gets any nearer.” He 
laughed vulgarly and hoarsely, and then lost the trend of 
his thoughts. ^Tt was a crimson amethyst — he always kept 
it in his ear. They buried me, Meg, beside the saint. The 
sand drifts very quickly, it runs and runs along the surface 
of the desert, so quickly and silently, like oozing water 
over a dry river-bed.” He gazed wildly at Abdul. ‘^Will 
you tell my old friend at el-Azhar that I have been dead 
for a long time.^ Tell him that the sands drift very quick- 
ly. Margaret mustn’t cry. The wind is the desert grave- 
digger. Take your wicked hands away !” Abdul had 
touched his wrist. ^Wou’ll never, never tempt me any more, 
because I’m dead, I tell you. I was so tired, I got off my 
camel, and lay down, and you ran away, you little coward. 
And the sands coyered me, and I’m dead, thank God !” 

Abdul waited and watched and trusted in Allah. His 
devotion was complete ; he surrendered himself to his master 
in his material life as completely as he surrendered him- 
self spiritually to his God. And he had his reward, for 
gradually Michael’s youth and splendid constitution as- 
serted themselves; the fever abated — natives have their 
own wise methods of treating it. There were days when he 
seemed almost well, far on the way to recovery, but they 
were often followed by hours of reaction and high delirium. 
These reactions were familiar to Abdul; they did not de- 
press him. Nevertheless they required time and patience. 
It was Michael’s first attack of fever, and therefore he was 
able to throw it off more completely than if his system 
had been undermined by it. 

To Abdul his convalescent stage w^as a time of perfect 
content. As is often the case with Orientals, he loved his 
European master with a sentiment and romance which finds 
no equivalent in Western natures. This sentiment and ro- 
mance had increased intensely during Michael’s illness. 
Abdul now looked upon him as a personal possession; he 
had nursed him back to life and health ; he was a gift which 

26 


402 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


Allah had placed in his hands. He had no sons of his own, 
so his master filled the unforgettable void. His conversion 
to Islam was Abdul’s most earnest prayer. 

The only cloud in his blue sky was the knowledge that 
Michael was disappointed and distressed by the fact that 
he had not, in some manner or other, let the Effendi Lamp- 
ton know that he was seriously ill. Abdul could not have 
written himself, for he could neither read nor write Eng- 
lish ; he always spoke to Michael in Arabic. It was there- 
fore impossible for him to write to the ElFendi Lampton, 
and to the native mind time was of so little account that 
one day was as good as another. Besides, deep down in 
his heart there was a pool of jealousy; he wished to nurse 
his beloved master back to life and health with his own 
hands. If the Effendi Lampton knew that he was ill, he 
would come to him or send someone to wait upon him who 
would rob him of his sweet work. And to do Abdul jus- 
tice, he did not know if his master would like any stranger, 
or even the Effendi Lampton himself, to know all the secrets 
of his heart which his ravings revealed. Michael had so 
often expressed the wish to Abdul that it should be from his 
own lips, or from his own letters, that the Effendi Lamp- 
ton should hear that the harlot had been with them in the 
desert, and the whole story of their desert journey. 

Abdul was quite convinced that his master’s letters had 
not yet been delivered at the hut in the Valley. It did not 
seem to him a very long time for a letter to take to travel 
across the desert and the Nile. The carrying of news was 
a different matter; he had a native’s knowledge of how that 
can be transmitted with great rapidity. A letter belonged 
to a widely-different means of communication. And so he 
let the matter rest. 

To the hospitable Omdeh he confided nothing. The old 
man was pleased and delighted to have Michael as his 
guest. During the patient’s rapid recovery, after his first 
weeks of intermittent convalescence, he was as pleased as 
a child to be allowed to entertain Michael with all the de- 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


403 


lights which he had held out before his eyes when he had 
invited him to spend two or three days with him, before he 
journeyed to the camp in the hills. 

During that time Michael became learned in the points of 
well-bred gazelles. He saw some native dancers, both male 
and female, who charmed him with their beauty and their 
art. And he listened so many times to celebrated A'latee- 
yeh (professional musicians) that, with the help of the 
Omdeh, he became? familiar with the remarkable peculiarity 
in the Arab system of music — its divisions of tones into 
thirds. Egyptian musicians consider that the European 
system of music is deficient in sounds. This small and deli- 
cate gradation of sound gives a peculiar softness to the per- 
formance of good Arab musicians. 

At first Michael was unable to appreciate the excellence 
of the music he listened to, for the finer and more delicate 
gradations of tone are difficult to discriminate with exact- 
ness; they are seldom heard in the vocal and instrumental 
music of people who have not made a regular study of the 
art. But as his ear became more habituated to the style, the 
more it delighted him. He had seen the rapture on AbduPs 
face and had heard the exclamations of ^^God approve 
thee!” ‘^God preserve thee!” from the Omdeh, many times 
before the knowledge came to him. He knew that it was his 
own ignorance, and not the musicians’ lack of skill, which 
was to blame. Until now he had only been familiar with 
the music of the Nile boatmen and the popular music of the 
people. 

It was delicious, or so Abdul thought, to sit with his 
master and the Omdeh in the cool garden, under the shade 
of a fantastic arbour, darkened by the leaves of oleanders 
and other semi-tropical trees, and there listen to the songs 
of famous Arab singers, or to the music of the ^ood, or the 
nay, a picturesque native flute, made out of a reed about 
half a yard in length, pierced with holes. 

Sometimes story-tellers would arrive. One would begin 
his romance early in the evening and it would not be nearly 


404 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


finished by bed-time, which came late in the hot summer 
nights. The reciting of it was broken by pleasant intervals 
for discussions, or for the sipping of sweet syrups and 
cool native drinks. The romance always left off at a thrill- 
ing point; sometimes it took three evenings to finish it. 

Abdul lived in a condition of satisfaction only to be ex- 
pressed by a Moslem mind. As for Michael, he had never 
imagined that he could feel himself so much at home and so 
closely in sympathy with purely native life. He began it at 
the point in his convalescence when nothing mattered; the 
path of least resistance was the only one which he could 
take. He continued in it when he no longer desired to re- 
sist. 

He had received no word from the Valley or from the 
outer world. He felt that he was cut off and abandoned. 
Millicent had no doubt taken pains to let Margaret know 
that she had been with him in the desert, and what could he 
expect but that Freddy would be justly indignant 

But he was getting better every day. He had had no 
return of the fever for some time. Whenever he felt fit to 
travel, he would go to the Valley and see if he could dis- 
cover anything of Freddy’s whereabouts. Of course, he 
could not stay there during the hot weather, but the guards 
in charge of the excavation-site might be able to tell him 
where he was to be found. 

It was no difficult matter for Michael to let things drift, 
and easier for him under the circumstances than it might 
otherwise have been. 

It was only after his complete recovery, and at the end of 
his long journey with the faithful Abdul back to the Valley, 
that he realized the utter desolation which faced him. 

He had said good-bye with regret and gratitude to the 
Omdeh, who was every day becoming more concerned about 
the secret propaganda which was being preached in the 
desert mosques, and had travelled as quickly as he could, 
more by train than by camel, back to Luxor. On an after- 
noon of blistering heat he had crossed the Nile and ridden 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


406 


over the plain of Thebes. He had to rest for a little time 
under the cliffs which shelter the great temple of Hatshepsu 
at Der-el-Bahari, before he continued his journey up the 
Valley of the Tombs of the Kings, to the hut in the 
wrinkles of the hills. 

As he rode through the Valley, his thoughts were full of 
his first meeting with Margaret. He remembered how at a 
certain point of the desolate track, which winds like a dry 
river-bed through the Theban hills, she had said, “Does 
Freddy live here all alone and how, when he had assured 
her that Freddy was well guarded by watch-dogs at night, 
she had said, “But dogs couldn’t keep off this!” For 
Margaret they had not kept off “this,” the spirit of 
Egypt; nothing can keep off Egypt; its power and mys- 
tery defy both time and science. 

He remembered her almost childish eagerness, when she 
first listened to his explanation of Akhnaton’s beliefs and 
teachings. Then her vision of the suffering Pharaoh came 
back to him, and all her arguments against her super- 
sense, which told her that she had seen the spirit of the 
first divinely-inspired man. He visualized her honest eyes 
and their expression of interest when he had argued with 
her that God had revealed Himself to mankind in many in- 
dividuals and in many countries. Surely she could not be- 
lieve that God had left a single nation without some revela- 
tion of Himself, that He had not sent upon all nations the 
gift of His Spirit by some redeemer.^ 

Margaret had said, “You mean, don’t you, that Christ 
revealed Himself to all nations.^” 

Michael had rejected her correction, for Christ was but 
one of God’s manifestations of Himself upon earth. There 
have been others — Buddha was one, so was Mohammed ; all 
great reformers, and those who are inspired with the spirit 
of truth, and seek to reveal its beauty to mankind, were to 
Michael God’s revelations of Himself upon earth. He gave 
to China, Confucius, to India, Krishna, and so on. To Pal- 


406 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


estine he gave Jesus, Whose teachings have lightened the 
darkness of the Western world. 

‘Wou may call them all Christ or Jesus, if you like,” he 
had said. ‘‘For they are all imbued with the same Spirit, 
which is of God. Jesus has become our ideal and example. 
He it is Whom God chose to teach a doctrine suited to 
Western minds.” 

In the heat and stillness of the Valley Michael pondered 
in his heart over all the arguments and discussions which he 
had had with Margaret under the star-lit heavens, or in an 
expanse of blinding sunlight, which left not a shadow as 
big as a man’s hand on the golden sands of the Sahara. 

He was living again in the days which preceded his ad- 
ventures in the Libyan Desert. Abdul was conscious of his 
master’s total absorption in the thoughts which his return 
to the Valley had called up. For many weeks the heat 
of the summer sun had made the Valley like a furnace; 
even now, though the hottest hours of the day were past, it 
was stifling and almost unendurable. The air scorched 
Michael’s face like the hot air which comes from an oven 
when its door is opened. 

As they drew near to the hut which had once been his 
home, the loneliness and desolation became more intense. It 
hurt Michael indescribably; the contrast between the pres- 
ent and the past was horrible. What he had looked upon 
as his home, and what had meant for him so much activity 
of mind and body, was now a mere wilderness. It was an 
inferno of heat and sandhills; even lizards and scorpions 
sought the shade. Nothing but the dead Pharaohs under 
the hills remained to tell him that this had been his Eden, 
where passion-flowers bloomed. 

The wooden hut was bolted and barred and closely shut- 
tered. 

“Certainly the family are not at home,” he said to Abdul, 
with grim humour. “There’s no good looking for Moham- 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 407 

med Ali — he won’t greet us with his white teeth and smil- 
ing eyes.” 

They halted. Not a movement or sound disturbed the 
Pharaonic stillness; not a sign of even insect life caught 
their searching eyes. Abdul drew a native whistle from his 
pocket and put it to his lips ; its sound travelled and echoed 
round the hills. 

Instantly a white turban appeared and the tall figure of 
a gaphir came forward, with his signal of office, a long 
staff carried in the Biblical manner, in his hand. Tall and 
bearded, in his flowing white robes, he might have been 
Moses praying apart in the wilderness, pleading for the 
children of Israel until the anger of the Lord was turned 
away. 

With inimitable dignity he came towards the two riders, 
who had so suddenly appeared in the Valley. He was the 
trusted servant of the Excavation Society ; his duty it was 
to patrol the district which surrounded the freshly-opened 
tomb, the one which Freddy had discovered ; his duty it was 
also to see that no harm came to the hut, to which the Ef- 
fendi Lampton would return in the autumn. 

When Michael asked him for information about the Ef- 
fendi Lampton, he threw back his head. He had heard 
nothing from him, or about him, since he had left the Valley 
and that was in the second week in May. He had gone 
away in a great hurry, and had left some of the settling of 
his papers and the packing of his antikas which were in the 
hut, in charge of the Effendi King. When Michael ques- 
tioned him if the Sitt, his sister, had remained with him 
until he left the Valley, the gaphir appeared uncertain ; he, 
personally, had not seen the Sitt, but then he had only 
come to take up his job the day before Mistrr Lampton had 
gone away; the Sitt might have been there — he did not 
know. 

As the dignified personage seemed to be disinclined to 
volunteer any information, and he was unable to give Mi- 
chael a satisfactory answer to the questions he asked him, 


408 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


there was nothing else to do but to let him return to his 
meditations. Michael supposed that there were native 
mounted police in the Valley, whom the man could call to 
his assistance if any trouble arose ; they would appear from 
some sheltered fold in the hills in answer to his signal. 

Down the Valley of Death, in which the flames of the 
inferno seemed to have licked and scorched the dry air ever 
since the world was created, Michael rode with Abdul at his 
side. He had turned his back on the hut, for the place 
thereof knew him no more. Freddy and Margaret had left 
it; it was as though their presence there had never been. 
He knew that he had been foolish to hope to And either 
Freddy or Margaret in the Valley; it was far too late in 
the season and too hot for any excavating work in Egypt. 
This he had been conscious of, but in his heart he felt the 
urging necessity of going to the Valley and proving the 
fact with his own eyes. Perhaps there was hidden in the 
back of his mind a hope that some message had been left 
there for him, that Freddy would have known that even 
if it was midsummer before his journey was accomplished, 
he would return there as soon as he could ; something would 
draw him to the scene of their united labour and happi- 
ness. 

But Freddy’s practical mind had not thought of any 
such folly ; he had left the Valley to the sun by day and the 
stars by night, and had gone like the swallows to a cooler 
and greener land. 

Michael was compelled to spend that night at Luxor. 
His urgent desire was to reach Cairo as quickly as possible 
and discover if the Iretons knew anything of Freddy and 
Margaret. They were now his one hope. In Luxor the 
fine European hotels were closed, so he found accommoda- 
tion in the house of one of Abdul’s friends, a clean, well- 
managed native inn. Luxor in May was without one blot 
or blemish of foreign life. 

The next day he travelled by train to Cairo. The new 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


409 


moon was just appearing in the evening sky when he found 
himself nearing the Iretons’ ancient Mameluke mansion. 
With the absence of all tourists and European life, the 
mediaeval city seemed to Michael so Biblical that he would 
not have been astonished if he had come across the city 
magistrates, sitting apart in conclave to hear the witnesses 
of the new moon’s appearance and settle the time. He 
could picture the scientific men in their midst, making their 
astronomical calculations, and judging whether the testi- 
monies agreed with their calculations. If they did, the 
president of the assembly proclaimed the new moon by the 
sound of a trumpet, and set open the gate of Nicanor, the 
great eastern brazen gate of the temple. 

But instead of the trumpet proclaiming the new moon, 
Michael heard the sonorous cries of the mweddin^ calling 
out the hour of Moslem prayer from the galleries round the 
tall minarets, which rose from the city like the lotus-headed 
columns of ancient Egypt. All the large mosques in Cairo 
are open from daybreak until two hours after sunset. The 
great university-mosque of el-Azhar would, Michael knew, 
remain open all night, all but one small portion, the prin- 
cipal place of prayer. 

When he reached the Iretons’ house, he rang the bell at 
the door of the outer courtyard. The Nubian who was 
stretched out on the mastaha behind it did not trouble to 
rouse himself. Let the fool ring — ^surely everyone knew 
that his master and mistress were not living in the city in 
this weather, when they had a beautiful mansion in the 
cool oasis to go to.'^ 

Michael rang again, but even as he rang his heart was 
beginning to sink; he knew that no servant would have 
kept a guest waiting behind the big door if his master 
was at home ; it was his one and only duty to guard it and 
admit visitors. The second time he rang, he did it so em- 
phatically that the noise vibrated through the courtyard. 

A moment later Michael heard a movement. The bar was 
lifted from its iron hooks, the door was grudgingly opened, 


410 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


land a black face, with thick lips and goggle eyes, was thrust 
out. In a great many more words than were necessary the 
Nubian told the anxious Michael that his master and mis- 
tress were away from home ; they were in the country ; the 
house was closed and would not be opened until October. 

When Michael urged him for more particulars, as to the 
precise address of his master, the effusive Nubian became as 
close as a sphinx. His duty to his master forbade him giv- 
ing any information to strangers at the gate; he only re- 
tained the post because he could be trusted. 

As Michael looked into the deserted courtyard, its sense 
of romantic isolation was as affecting as the desolation of 
the Valley had been. It seemed to him as if all his friends 
were dead, as if he was the sole survivor of his generation 
and civilization. The native city, bathed in the mystery of 
the falling night and the secrets of its great age, lay be- 
hind him. It, too, was a world which had outlived its 
civilization, a relic of the Middle Ages, as lonely as his own 
soul. 

Mechanically he bade the Nubian good-night; the half- 
piastre which he dropped into the pink palm of his black 
hand brought down blessings on his unbelieving head. 

He wandered aimlessly on. He was very tired and abso- 
lutely friendless ; he had no place or part in the city, whose 
arteries were throbbing with the prayers and praise of an 
infinite variety of Oriental peoples, peoples whose countries 
were separated by oceans and continents, joined in one vast 
brotherhood in Islam. He felt miserably alone, a homeless 
and friendless alien. 

At the hour which follow^s sundown Egypt has always 
new secrets to reveal. On this night of the new moon, the 
late afterglow of the summer sun spread an opal haze, 
flame-tinted and milky, over the sin-soiled city of the 
Caliphs. It descended from the heavens like a veil of 
righteousness. 

Michael had no desire to return to his hotel. He did not 
know what to do; the absence of the Iretons from Cairo 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


411 


had shattered his last hope. Surely it was ordained.^ He 
was to realize that he was reaping the punishment he de- 
served for his weakness and folly. It was obvious to his 
tired nerves and hypercritical senses that Margaret had 
purposely returned to England without leaving any indi- 
cation of her destination. He would go to Cook’s post-office 
the next morning; thahwas his last forlorn hope. If there 
was no letter awaiting him there, he would take his dismissal 
as final. It had been he himself who had insisted that Mar- 
garet should consider herself free. 

He knew Freddy’s English address, but dared he write to 
him.?^ He had ignored all his letters and had gone back to 
England without making any effort to communicate with 
him. This was certainly his dismissal. And if Margaret 
had gone also without leaving one word of comfort for 
him, he must draw the same conclusion from her silence. 

Tired out with walking through the narrow streets, he 
stood on the steps of a small mosque, whose doors were 
closed. He must think over what he ought to do. As his 
eyes rested on the Eastern scene before him, a sudden vision 
of his old friend at el-Azhar came to him. The university- 
mosque would not be closed, its gate would open and re- 
ceive him into the Perfection of Peace. 

For a few moments the desire to throw himself into the 
arms of Islam overwhelmed him ; it was the way of peace, 
the way of forgetfulness, the way of self-surrender. 

He remembered Abdul’s teachings, and how he had often 
said, ‘‘A sort of death comes over the first life, and this 
state is signified by the word Islam, for Islam brings about 
death of the passions of the flesh and gives new life to us. 
This is the true regeneration, and the word of God must be 
revealed to the person who reaches this stage. This stage 
is termed The meeting of God.’ ” 

Michael imagined that he would find that stage if he 
went to his old friend at el-Azhar, if he went humbly and 
asked him to lead him into the way of peace, if he went that 
very night and confessed to him his own failure to reach 


412 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


the stage which is enjoyed by all devout Moslems. The 
burning fire which is Islam, the fire which consumes all low 
desires and gives to men that love for God which knows no 
bounds, would that be his state if he surrendered himself 
intellectually and spiritually to the laws and the teachings 
of the Koran ? 

There was nothing in the ethics or the moral code of the 
Pirophet with which he disagreed; the excellence of his 
teachings as laid down in the Koran was extraordinarily far- 
reaching and comprehensive. Michael’s whole being for the 
moment was filled with the devotion and abandonment of 
Islam. Mohammed’s mission was to turn the hearts of his 
people to the worship of the one and only God ; his desire, 
like Akhnaton’s, was to throw down the false gods from the 
altars, and reinstate the simple and undivided worship of 
the Creator in men’s hearts and minds. To Michael, his 
teachings had always been the teachings of a great and in- 
spired reformer. At that moment, when the spell of Islam 
was baptizing him, he forgot that Mohammed’s God was 
not the Sweet Singer in the spring-time, or the bright eye 
of the daisy in June, or the laughter of the babbling brooks. 
The beauty of God, to the Moslem, consists in His unity. 
His majesty. His grandeur and His lofty attributes. Mi- 
chael overlooked the difference. He loved to walk with 
God in the cornfields, to speak to Him when he visited the 
lotus-gardens on the Nile. The Moslem succeeds in aban- 
doning himself to God’s will, but he fails to enjoy Him in 
the scent of the hawthorn, or hear His voice in the whisper 
of the pines. 

The Moslem city was pouring into his veins the beauty of 
its spiritual calm; the hour was kind to its imperfections, 
its hidden sores were forgotten. 

His feet mechanically descended the flights of stone steps 
which had raised him above the level of the street and had 
placed him under the shadow of the ancient doorway of the 
mosque. Without asking himself where he was going, or 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 413 

what he intended to do, he walked in the direction of el- 
Azhar. 

As he threaded his way through the narrow streets, dark- 
ness was quickly obliterating the dirt and unsighthness 
which was visible in the noonday. His mind was vexed with 
a thousand questions. Why did a Western civilization and 
the Protestant religion make human beings restless and ques- 
tioning Why were they forever desiring the things which 
are withheld? Why had his life and his interests suddenly 
tottered to the ground? Surely it was because he had not 
learned to put the things of the spirit above things mate- 
rial. If he resigned his will to Islam, would he in return 
be granted the calm philosophy of a Moslem, who accepts 
his condition and his disappointments as the unquestion- 
able and far-seeing decree of the Cause of all causes? 

Drifting and dreaming, Michael wandered on, the sum- 
mer heavens above him, the mediaeval city surrounding him. 
The hot day’s work was over ; men and women were en j oy- 
ing in their Oriental fashion the cooler and sweeter air of 
the late evening. Portly figures of elderly men were de- 
scending the high steps which raise the mosque-doors from 
the level of the street; narrow, two-wheeled carts, of im- 
mense length, packed full of black bundles — ^Egyptian 
women closely veiled — were taking tired workers back to 
their homes in the suburbs. Darkness, which falls so 
quickly and early in the East, even in mid-summer, was 
bringing relief to sun-tired eyes. 

Reaction was aflTecting Michael very strongly. It had 
only set in when the absence of the Iretons from Cairo had 
suddenly opened up a chasm of distrust and doubt before 
his feet. In his desolate wandering through the city, Mar- 
garet seemed very far away. Indeed, he had never felt any 
assurance of her sympathy and presence since he had re- 
covered from his illness. He had nerved and braced him- 
self to make the supreme effort which he knew would be 
demanded of him if he was to reach the Valley ; he had made 
it wholly unaided by any subconscious sense of her spiritual 


414 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


presence. His assurance of her unchanged confidence in his 
devotion had left him. It was to his material, not spiritual, 
will-power and determination that he owed his victory over 
the physical exhaustion which he had experienced. 

He scarcely thought of Margaret as he wandered on ; in 
his mood of self-pity he felt abandoned. Every minute he 
was drawing nearer and nearer to the gates of el-Azhar. 
Unconsciously he desired that when he reached the gate 
which led into the Court of the Perfection of Peace, it 
would open, and strong arms would gather him up as they 
had gathered him up in the Libyan Desert, and drown his 
restlessness and doubts in their strength; that he might 
spend his future at rest under the shadow af the Everlast- 
ing Arms — The God of Akhnaton, the God of Jesus^ the 
God of Mohammed, His Arms encompass and enfold the 
world. 

At the gates of el-Azhar Michael paused and listened. 
The praises of Allah, and man’s love for Him, went up from 
a hundred devout voices. The pillared cojurtyard looked 
vast and solemn ; the soft air of the summer night vibrated 
with the sonorous chanting of students and professors. The 
peace of God which passeth all understanding beautified 
the mediaeval building, which has been for long centuries 
the centre of culture and learning for the scattered Moslem 
world. It baptized Michael’s fevered soul as the waters of 
Jordan baptized those who were converts of the forerunner 
of Jesus. Centuries of meditation and prayer have left 
their divine influence on the place. 

All sacred enclosures hold the gift of healing. Michael 
had felt it in the temples of Egypt, in the temples of the 
Greeks, in the mosques. The things of the spirit remain in 
them, the thoughts which have been born by communion 
with the soul. 

Impulsively Michael lifted the iron handle of the bell ; it 
hung from a long chain which lay against a square column, 
one of the two posts at the outer gate. Here was the rest 
he was seeking, the beauty of divine meditation. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


415 


As he lifted the handle and his palm pressed it with the 
tightening grasp necessary for pulling it, he let it drop. 
Something made him drop it. He had ardently desired 
to ring it ; it was not the lateness of the hour, or the nerv- 
ousness which he might well have felt at taking a step which 
would lead him into fresh perplexity and doubt, which had 
made him pause. He had dropped it because he was com- 
pelled to, and as he dropped it, he knew that he would 
never again ring it for the same purpose. His super-self 
had triumphed ; it had dominated his actions. 

Suddenly the overwhelming significance of the step which 
he had been about to take so rashly made him tremble and 
feel apprehensive. He turned round quickly, as if he ex- 
pected to see the hand which had stayed him. No one was 
there. He stood tense, perfectly still, listening. Only the 
prayers from the courts of Islam came to his ears. Mingled 
with their solemnity, came with vivid clearness the picture 
of himself, seated on the marble floor of the courtyard, pre- 
tending that he was one in heart and soul with the others. 
He could see their devotion, their bridled intellects, their 
impersonal minds, strange peoples of every Oriental nation 
— black Nubians, pale Arabs, flat-featured Mongolians — 
all sincere and honest in this one thing at least, their abso- 
lute belief in, and surrender to Islam. He saw himself, a 
Western, with a Western mind; he saw himself a hypocrite 
and charlatan. He saw the deadly monotony of the life 
which only a moment before had seemed the Way of Per- 
fect Peace. His old friend, who had given him such won- 
derful counsel, would have read into his heart; he would 
have seen there the vast difference which lay between Mi- 
chael’s sincere beliefs and the beliefs which he was profess- 

ing- 

Resolutely he turned his back on the university-mosque. 
He would visit his friend at a more suitable hour, and ask 
him to explain to him some of the things that had hap- 
pened. He would ask him if he was aware that his desert 
journey had, in a material sense at least, ended in failure. 


416 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


if his seer’s vision had enabled him to discover what had 
happened to the treasure. 

On his way back to the European quarter of Cairo he 
rested for a short time by the roadside, in a strange little 
cemetery of poor Moslem tombs. It lay exposed to the 
turmoil and dust of a rough road, a sun-baked spot in 
the daytime ; at night it was grimly mysterious. The mem- 
orial stones — the humbler for the women, of course, the 
grander ones, with turbans cut in the grey stone, for the 
men — had sunk into the ground until they stood at strange 
angles. The rough white stones had become grey with age, 
and many of them were sadly broken. 

I A donkey-boy, who had perchance taken some portly 
Turkish merchant back to his homq in the country after his 
day’s work in the city, came hurrying down the hill. It was 
steep, and loose stones covered the path. When he reached 
the dilapidated cemetery he pulled up his suffering animal. 
Michael, from his hidden corner, watched the boy fling him- 
self from the donkey’s back; the animal remained motion- 
less, while its rider, in his one garment — a short white shirt, 
which only reached to the knees of his tanned legs — stepped 
in amongst the gravestones. Finding the one he sought, he 
said a short prayer beside it in devout tones, then hastened 
back to his donkey. When he started down the hill and the 
tired beast stumbled, he belaboured it with a heavy stick 
and cursed it. His foul language rang out into the still- 
ness ; it echoed among the stones under which lay the bones 
of his ancestor — or was it, perhaps, the bones of some 
humble saint, whose favour he was inciting? 

The little incident was as illustrative of the effects of 
Islam as the peace within the courts of el-Azhar. 

Michael sat in the cemetery, which had seemed to him to 
be of no more consequence than a heap of stones by the 
wayside, awaiting the roadmender’s hammer. Yet, with the 
strange inconsequence of Orientals, it was evidently a sacred 
spot. It had its pilgrims and its uses. This city cemetery 
brought to his mind the drifting sand of the open desert. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


417 


and the ever-increasing mound which Nature was piling up 
over the bones of the holy man, which lay in an ocean of 
sweet silence and expanse. 


CHAPTER XXHI 

Early the next morning Michael again stood at the gate 
of the university-mosque, but it was a different Michael to 
the Michael of the night before. The unseen hand which 
had stopped him when he was about to ring the bell did 
not have to interfere a second time. He rang it resolutely, 
thinking calm thoughts, and despising himself for his fool- 
ish mood of the night before. 

When the gate was opened to him, he passed in and hur- 
ried across the blinding brightness of the open courtyard. 
He made haste to reach the shelter of the colonnade ; he was 
in no drifting humour ; he was again asserting his capacity 
for being practical about the unpractical. He did not even 
allow himself to dwell on the memories which the scene re- 
called of the day when he had visited his friend, before he 
determined to leave the Valley and go into the Libyan 
Desert. 

When he reached the portion of the building where the 
old African student lived, his steps slackened. What if he 
was dead.^ He was an old man for a mid-African, and his 
physique had been greatly exhausted by continued chasten- 
ing of the flesh. 

When he was well within sight of his cell he saw the lean, 
gaunt figure of the hermit-student standing inside the iron- 
barred gate ; he was straining his eyes into the distance ; he 
was looking for someone. 

When Michael was near enough to address him, which he 
did in tones of pleasure and respect, the African opened 
the gate slowly and not without difficulty, his trembling 

27 


418 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


hands thinner and more bloodless even than they had been 
when Michael had visited him before. 

After the proper greetings were exchanged, the African 
invited Michael to enter, and asked him if he would lend a 
patient ear to what he had to tell him. 

‘T am an old man,” he said. ‘‘I can see the end of this 
existence — it is not far off. It is well that you have come.” 

When Michael expressed his sorrow, the tired eyes 
flashed. 

“Do not grieve, my son. When the righteous servant of 
God sees death face to face, he does not contend with his 
God — ^that is to oppose His will, that is not in accordance 
with total resignation.” 

Michael said that his grief was for himself, not for his 
friend; his words were an apology. The old man had 
seated himself in a humble attitude on the floor in front of 
Michael ; with the never-failing courtesy of an Oriental, he 
was not forgetful of the etiquette w^hich prescribes for the 
seating of oneself in the presence of a superior. There is 
always a position of honour in a native room, and this, even 
in his cell, the zealot of Islam reserved for his professors 
and for his honoured guests, if they were his social supe- 
riors. 

When they were seated and the tired old man had rested 
for a few moments, he said, in the lengthy and flowery 
style of Orientals: 

looked for you, my son; your coming was foretold. I 
have long and eagerly awaited it.” 

“Were you watching for me.^^” Michael asked. “I saw 
you at the door of your cell. I am glad I came.” 

“Even as you came, I looked for you. The Lord of 
Kindness knows the desires of our hearts; He grants all 
those which in His mercy He deems fit.” 

“You desired to see me, O my father 

^^Aiwah, for long I have desired it.” 

A rosary was in his hands; he pulled the beads slowly 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 419 

along the string. Michael had learned to banish impatience 
in the presence of natives. 

‘T have been in great tribulation,” he said. ^^Did you 
know that.? I am even yet sorely troubled.” 

The African answered with his eyes. 

Lord, give us in our affliction the contentment of 
mind which may give us patience.” 

‘‘My peace of mind has gone, O my father. I feel that 
my feet have strayed far from the way of peace. I came to 
hear your counsel.” 

The old man’s eyes flamed with the fire of righteousness. 
“My son,” he said, “the Lord has revealed to His dying 
servant the things which as yet you know not. You speak 
of peace where there is no peace, for I have seen the Arma- 
geddon of God’s enemies ; I have seen the world washed in 
the blood of those who know not Islam; I have seen the 
heathen nations of the earth blind with rage. Why do 
these nations of the earth so furiously rage together.? I 
tell you, O my son, it is because they have not the love of 
God in their hearts.” 

Michael was silent. The old man’s words conveyed very 
little to him, for as yet there was no rumour of the war 
which was breeding in Europe. The internal troubles in 
Ireland, distressing as they were, were not of a nature to 
be spoken of with such appalling gravity. The old man’s 
anxiety and sincerity were unmistakable, but what did he 
mean.? While he sat in silence, wondering what the seer 
had in his mind, Michael saw that his dark eyes were far 
away. His attitude was that of one who had detached 
himself from his surroundings; his spirit was immeasur- 
ably removed from his material body. Suddenly he spoke. 

“Take heed, my son, for everywhere, even unto the ends 
of the earth I can see bloodshed and suffering, and an 
agony of evil such as the world has never seen. I can see 
nations rising against nations, and the blood of kindred 
spilt by each other’s swords, for they know not God.” 

Michael, not without a feeling of mental irritation, lis- 


420 THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


tened to the African’s foretelling. It seemed to him the 
imaginings of a zealot’s weakening brain. This war which 
he foretold was to Michael an impossible thing amongst 
civilized nations, but he listened patiently to all that he had 
to say. Blood which was to pour like a river over the West- 
ern world, was to be spilt for the cause of Truth; it was to 
be the punishment and final agony of the unbelievers; war 
was to spread over the world like a deadly plague. God in 
His wisdom had willed it, for it was to be a proof that the in- 
fidels, who had fiourished like the green bay-trees, were at 
last to suffer the vengeance of God. This war, which he 
saw as clearly as astrologers see the stars and the moon in 
the heavens through their scientific instruments, was or- 
dained by Allah, it was the work of His hand, it was His 
terrible revelation to mankind of the falseness of the doc- 
trines preached by those who called themselves the follow- 
ers of Christ. For nearly two thousand years they had 
fed the nations on lies and set up images which were ab- 
horrent to the one and only God. They had, to suit their 
own doctrines and dogmas, perverted the meaning of the 
words of Jesus; they had made the name of Christ a by- 
word to all true believers. The sin of hate and the lust for 
blood, which was to fill the hearts of all Christian countries, 
was to be a token to all true believers that the teachings of 
Christians had been vain and fruitless. They had lived 
without God in their hearts; now even the example of the 
Prophet Jesus they laughed to scorn. 

“God is alone in His personal attributes ; He has no part- 
ner. He is neither a Son nor a Father, for there is none 
of His kind.” 

Knowing the religious fervour of devout Moslems, Mi- 
chael listened to his warning, but without the interest which 
he would have felt if he had had the slightest inkling of the 
agony which was so soon to convulse Europe. He thought 
that as the African’s end was not far off, he was becoming 
more troubled and desirous for the conversion of the world 
to Islam. He said to himself, “If he knows nothing about 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


421 


my experience in the desert and my failure to find the treas- 
ure, I will give no second thought to this imaginary war 
of nations.” While he listened to his strange and fervent 
warnings, he determined to find out if he knew what had 
happened. When the African paused, he said: 

‘^Pray tell me, O my father, if it was known to you the 
things that befell me in the desert. If not, I have much to 
tell you.” 

The African was far away; only his emaciated body was 
in the cell when Michael spoke ; when he drew back his mind 
to his material presence, he met Michael’s questioning eyes ; 
his own were tragic and stricken. 

^^These things are past, my son; in this new world of 
despair and suffering there is no place for them. Very 
often I saw you, very often you were in great trouble, 
trouble as the world understood trouble in the days of 
peace. But because of the avarice of ungodly rulers there 
is sorrow and mourning coming to the world, which will 
teach men that they know not the meaning of anguish. In 
the Armageddon they will understand the suffering of the 
Prophet Jesus, the Man of Sorrows Who was acquainted 
with grief.” 

Michael, convinced that the seer’s mind was obsessed with 
this one idea, accepted the fact philosophically; he shrank 
from asking him the more personal questions he wished 
answered. Nevertheless, he was extremely curious to learn 
if he was ignorant of the result of his expedition. 

“Tell me, my father, did you see me securing the great 
treasure of gold and jewels; which I went into the desert to 
find.^ Did you know how greatly I have reaped my re- 
ward 

“My son, speak to me of the truth which is in thy heart, 
not of lies.” His angry eyes rebuked Michael. “Stand 
fast to truth and justice. The men of truth shall find a 
rich reward — they do not sit in the company of liars.” 

“I ask your forgiveness, O my father. Truly I spoke 
not after the fashion of those who have understanding.” 


422 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


“My son, I have seen what I have seen. Your deeds of 
charity are known to God, His power extends over all 
things; not a chicken cheeps in the egg-shell but He has 
created. Your trials and losses are known to Him, they 
are His ordaining. Because of your weakness and the car- 
nal thoughts and desires which were in your heart, God 
saw fit to remove the treasure from your sight. Again in 
the days of peace you must seek it, in the bowels of the 
earth it is laid up for you.’^ 

Michael’s heart stood still. Verily the old man had seen, 
for in his words there were truth and meaning. 

“My son, listen to the teachings of the Prophet, God 
bless His holy name. ‘Believing men should restrain their 
eyes from looking upon strange women, whose sight may 
excite their carnal passions. Draw not near unto forni- 
cation. The word of God restrains the carnal desires of 
man even from smouldering in secret.’ ” 

“You know, O my father, that I sought not the pres- 
ence of the strange woman in my camp.^” 

“My son, through the grace of Allah I have seen. Your 
temptation was great, your charity was acceptable in God’s 
sight. He knows that many unbelievers look towards Him, 
but do not see Him.” 

“And what now is thy counsel, O my father 
’ The African shook his head. “Prayer, my son, that is 
my counsel. The world has much need of prayer. Pray 
that through Allah’s guidance all nations of the earth may 
learn how to live peacefully one with another. I can see 
nothing further ; that is my counsel : Work and pray. I can 
give you no assurance, but Allah granting, I will pray 
without ceasing. You must humbly submit to the will of 
Allah. This I give you as my counsel. You took the great 
journey; your heart is still filled with the eagerness of 
youth, with the vanity of earthly ambition. But all these 
things will be purged from your heart, your bowels of 
compassion will yearn for the mothers of sons, who weep 
for their sons because they are not. Your journey was not 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


423 


in vain. If your fingers have not yet touched the treasure 
which you sought, if your desires have strayed from the 
path of righteousness, if you have not always stood in the 
Light, there is a new treasure laid up in your heart, my 
son, the treasure of meekness. Meekness is one of the 
moral conditions of the Koran, and the servants of the All- 
Merciful are those who walk meekly upon earth. This 
treasure has been revealed to you, you have learned many 
strange and wonderful things, a spiritual treasure has been 
bestowed upon you which is of greater richness than the 
gold and the jewels which you sought. You dreamed 
not of man’s weakness, O my son, you relied upon your own 
strength. Allah has chosen His own method of revealing 
to you the manner of man’s carnal nature.” 

Michael remained lost in thought while the old man fin- 
ished his counsel by reciting a beautiful sura from the 
Koran. In his mind there had been gathering the convic- 
tion that there was more truth than he had at first imagined 
in his daring prophecy, in his foretelling of the calamity 
which was to befall all Christian countries. He had been 
perfectly accurate on the subject of his own journey, that 
it had not been successful in regard to the treasure of 
Akhnaton. He had seen with extraordinary clearness all 
which had happened, even to the reading of his heart. It 
was unnecessary for Michael to tell him in words all that 
he had gone through, for the African was tired, and his 
eyes had seen. There was just one thing he had been crav- 
ing to ask him about; it had been glowing at the back of 
his mind like a light from a sacred lamp. That precious 
thing was Margaret. Had this mid- African, whose feet 
were bending to the open grave, any seer’s knowledge 
which would assist him? 

“I would ask you yet one more question, O my father. 
Of my dear friends, whom I left in Upper Egypt when I 
journeyed into the desert — have you counsel regarding 
them which will ease the anxiety I feel?” 

The old man’s eyes flashed brightly. He had forgot- 


424 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


ten; his voice was expressive of human sympathy. ^‘Your 
guarded lady, insha Allah, the future mother of your sons, 
she was never far from you, she it was who many times 
comforted you. Often have I seen her spiritual presence 
very close to you.” 

“Your words are the truth, O my father. When the 
weakness of man’s nature overwhelmed me, she came to me 
in the desert.” 

“Spiritually you embraced her, my son; Allah, in His 
perfect understanding, granted you this great comfort.” 

“I have not heard from her, my father, nor has her spir- 
itual presence been close to me for many weeks. My heart 
is desolate.” 

“Pray for fortitude, my son, that mural condition which 
enables us to meet danger and endure pain with calmness.” 
As he said the last words, his eyes looked into the future; 
his expression became agonized. “Fortitude,” he repeated 
the words slowly and deliberately, “fortitude — you must 
pray for it without ceasing, for without it you cannot face 
the future.” 

“You do not explain, O my father, why I do not see or 
hear anything from those who love me.” 

Michael had seen by the visionary’s expression that his 
thoughts were again obsessed with the Armageddon he had 
visualized. 

The African shook his head. “Some things I may not 
see, O my son, Allah withholds them from my imperfect 
human understanding. It is only by His ordaining that I 
can see what I see. If your heart is clean and worthy, my 
son, doubt not the faithfulness and steadfastness of the 
woman to whom you are spiritually united. She raises not 
her eyes to strange men ; if by your own weakness you have 
lost your spiritual connection with her, then hasten to act 
worthily of her. The world will have need of all those who 
have the love of God in their hearts, of all those who have 
the moral quality of forgiveness and sympathy. It is an 
easy matter to forgive those whom we love. Go you forth 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


425 


into battle and learn to forgive those whom you hate. 
Never have your opportunities been greater.” 

As his last words were uttered, with extreme earnestness, 
through the colonnade and courtyard of the ancient build- 
ing came the midday call to prayer; it was sonorous and 
prolonged. ^ 

Michael rose hastily from his low seat. The aged student 
did not detain him. Their farewell was comparatively 
brief, owing to the mueddin^s harmonious and sonorous 
chanting of the adan, 

‘T will return,” Michael said. ‘T will not leave Egypt 
without saying farewell to you, O my father, and asking 
for thy blessing.” 

^‘Insha Allah (if God wills), my son. Very soon God 
will permit His servant to enjoy the blessings of paradise.” 

‘Tt will not be many days before I go to England.” 

^‘Aiwah, the time draws near when each man will return 
to the land which gave him birth. The Lord of Battles has 
decreed it, the Lord of Battles will send forth His summons. 
From the uttermost ends of the earth all those who have 
denied Him, all those who have denied that He is God beside 
Whom there is none other to be worshipped, they will an- 
swer to the call : with pride in their hearts they will slaugh- 
ter those who should be their brethren. The voice of the 
slain will travel even as the wind travels to the world’s end. 
Woe unto those nations who have taught false doctrines, 
who have stretched out their hands to oppress the widows 
and the helpless, for the anger of the God of Battles is 
turned against them. He knows everything, and nothing 
lies hidden from His sight.” 

Michael made no answer. His mind was groping after 
the true understanding of all that the African said. 

‘Tf Allah had so willed it, my son, great would have been 
my happiness, my rejoicing, to see the final triumph of 
Islam, to see the nations upon the earth loving each other, 
all borders and barriers broken down, to see the love of 
God ruling all men and all countries. When men live with 


426 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


the image of the true God in their hearts, there will be no 
dividing barriers. True patriots will be the obedient chil- 
dren of God, the banner of Islam the universal banner of 
mankind. Farewell, my son, God be with you.” 

His gate was shut behind Michael; the lean figure has- 
tened to obey the call to prayer. 

As Michael hurried to the outer gate and crossed the 
thronged courts of el-Azhar, he meditated on the old man’s 
words. What did they mean.? What had his eyes seen.? 
Locked away in his obscure cell in the centre of the Moslem 
university-mosque, how could he know what was going to 
happen in the great countries of Europe.? He would find 
it difficult, no doubt, to assign to England her correct posi- 
tion on the map. And yet his warnings were strangely in- 
tense. Had they any connection with the tales of political 
sedition of which the Omdeh had so often spoken.? Noth- 
ing belonging to the present seemed to matter to him now ; 
his thoughts and visualizing were riveted on the agony of 
the world which he foretold. His prayers were for this 
new agony and world-wide disaster which had been revealed 
to him. 

It was strangely perplexing. Michael felt great pity for 
him, that his last few weeks on earth should be so saddened ; 
even though he was convinced that this agony was to be for 
the final triumph of Islam, it was tearing at his bowels of 
compassion. His gentle nature was suffering for the chil- 
dren whom Allah now saw fit to punish. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


427 


PART III 

CHAPTER I 

The war was six months old and Margaret was still a pan- 
try-maid in the private hospital in St. Alphege’s Square. 
She was to be promoted to the wards in a few weeks’ time, 
to fill the place of a V.A.D. who was going out to France. 
Before taking up her more interesting work, she had been 
granted a fortnight’s leave; the exacting matron realized 
that the willing horse which works its hardest is one which 
will eventually collapse under its burden. |j 

Margaret was now visiting an aunt in a northern town, 
drinking in the keen air of the winter hills and the resin of 
the pine-woods. She was conscientiously building up her 
tired system, fitting herself for fresh endeavours; she can- 
sidered that her brief holiday had been given her for this 
purpose. Her health and capacity for work were the two 
assets which she could give to the war; it was as much a 
matter of duty to nurse that capital and increase it as it was 
the duty of the engineers on a ship to keep the driving 
power of the vessel in perfect order. 

During her holiday the only form of war-work which she 
allowed herself to do, except the mechanical one of knitting, 
was to help at a railway-station canteen, which supplied 
free meals to all the soldiers and sailors who passed through. 
The aunt whom she was visiting had the entire responsibil- 
ity for the free-refreshment-room for one of the shifts for 
two nights in the week ; her shift began at six and ended 
at nine o’clock. Punctually at nine o’clock another mem- 
ber of the canteen, or ^^barrow-fund,” as it was called, took 
the responsibility off her hands and kept it until two-thirty 


428 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


a.m. Margaret’s aunt asked her to take the place of a 
helper who had suddenly been telegraphed for to see a 
wounded brother who had just arrived at a hospital in 
Edinburgh. 

At the large station, a very important junction, the 
third-class ladies’ waiting-room had been given over to this 
energetic body of women war-workers, who had converted 
it into an attractive refreshment-room. Margaret was es- 
tablished behind the buffet in her V.A.D.’s uniform. The 
wide counter in front of her was covered with cups and 
plates, piled high with tempting sandwiches and bread and 
butter, cakes and scones ; immense urns, full to the brim 
with steaming coffee and tea, gleamed brightly on a wide 
shelf behind her. Everything was in readiness, and there 
were a few minutes to spare before^ the first train was due, 
which would bring a bevy of hungry men into the hospi- 
table room. Margaret used those few minutes to make a 
tour of inspection ; she had to see that plenty of post-cards 
and writing materials were in evidence on the centre table, 
that the illustrated papers were conspicuously displayed. 
The barrow, or the moving refreshment buffet, was already 
out on the platform; it served the men who had no time 
to leave their carriages. It was winter, so flowers were 
scarce, but hardly a night passed but there was a fresh 
bouquet on the counter and table. The owners of large 
country-houses saw to that. The dominoes and draught- 
boards had been forgotten; Margaret put them on the 
table in the centre of the room. And then, satisfied that 
all was right, she took up her position again behind the 
counter. She was to be responsible for the serving of the 
tea and coffee; the men helped themselves to the contents 
of the plates. Her aunt attended to the tea and coffee 
urns, keeping them replenished and their contents in good 
condition. Margaret’s was distinctly the pleasanter work 
of the two. 

The sharp air of the north had brought back the glow to 
Margaret’s eyes and a freshness to her rather London- 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


429 


bleached cheeks. She looked a deliciously fresh and pleas- 
ing waitress in her crisp indoor V.A.D. uniform. The red 
cross on the front of her apron was as becoming to her as 
a bunch of scarlet geraniums. It was too hot, standing 
so near the steaming urns, for hats and coats, so she had 
the advantage of showing her rippling hair. The cosy 
iatmosphere of the room made her forgetful of the severity 
of the wintry atmosphere outside. Margaret’s pretty fig- 
ure and dark head appearing above the buffet-counter were 
certainly great assets to the free-refreshment-room. Her 
aunt, who was a conscientiously undemonstrative woman, 
felt proud of her niece. She more than once that evening 
^thought to herself what pleasure the girl’s beauty would 
give to the men. It was unfortunately against her prin- 
ciples to allow Margaret to even guess how much she both 
approved of her and admired her. 

Her aunt’s thoughts were correct. Margaret’s pretty 
head and her dark eyes were remembered by many an ach- 
ing heart that night; from her hands the tea and coffee 
Vthey drank had more flavour than that which was so casu- 
ally dispensed to them in the army canteens. 

^^Here they come, Margaret !” her aunt called out, as the 
door opened and a crowd of khaki-clad figures poured into 
Ithe room. Most of their faces brightened as they saw the 
inviting buffet. 

They had only twenty minutes in which to enjoy their 
refreshment and change trains; most of them were going to 
London. This was only one of the many train-loads of men 
which would visit the room that night. There were about 
forty men, pushing and elbowing their way to the counter. 

With a sharp-spouted, blue-enamelled tin jug in her 
hand, Margaret began her work, quickly filling the empty 
cups on the counter. As fast as her active movements 
would allow her she filled and refilled the saucerless cups. 
What seemed a never-ending stream of men pushed for- 
ward and tried to get closer to the counter. 

‘^Help yourselves, please, to sandwiches and cakes,” came 


430 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


from Margaret’s lips every few minutes, for some of the 
men were shy — she had to keep on repeating the invita- 
tion. She had scarcely time to glance at them, or raise 
her eyes from the cups which she was filling. As there were 
no saucers, it required a steady hand to prevent the tea 
from splashing on the counter. Such a large majority of 
the men took tea that she had to tell them that there was 
coffee. “Tea or coffee.?” she would ask, with quickly raised 
eyes. “We have both.” 

There was on these occasions no opportunity for any 
conversation with the men. Their time was too limited for 
speech, and she was too busy to distinguish one khaki- 
clad figure from another. It was only a pair of eyes which 
she met now and then, when it was possible to raise hers 
from the extended cup she was refilling. More than once 
her blue-enamelled jug ran dry, and impatient men had to 
wait while she replenished it from one of the big urns which 
were steaming on the shelf behind her. When the jug was 
quite full, it was so heavy to hold extended, that she had 
to exercise care not to spill some of its contents on the 
sandwiches and cake. It was exceptionally difficult not to 
spill any of it when cups were held high up to be refilled. 

One tall man, a late-comer, had with difficulty pushed his 
way forward; he was waiting to be served. He held up his 
cup, thinking that it would make it easier for Margaret to 
reach it. Before filling it, she recollected to say, “Would 
you rather have some coffee.?” 

She raised her eyes as she spoke. Some curious sense of 
the man’s more refined personality had made her think that 
coffee might appeal to him. As she did so, Michael’s Irish- 
blue eyes gazed back into hers. 

For a moment the world stood still for Margaret. Her 
poor heart beat so quickly that her hand gave a spasmodic 
shake, with the result that a considerable quantity of the 
tea from the enamelled jug splashed over the brim and 
drenched a plate of scones. 

Michael had not spoken, nor could Margaret. What she 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 431 

had waited so long to ask him could not be called out over 
a dozen eager heads. 

A kilted Scot, broad-faced and broad-kneed, had pushed 
himself in front of Michael, who recognized that it was his 
duty to step back from the counter now that his cup was 
full, and allow the man just behind him to get his chance. 

Margaret had to go on filling white cups with tea. She 
dared not even raise her eyes to see if she could catch sight 
of Michael above the crowd of khaki figures. It was hope- 
less now, for another train had brought in a fre^h batch of 
weary, cold, homesick men, all eager for a hot cup of tea. 
Most of the first-comers had already disappeared; one or 
two of them were hastily addressing with pen and ink the 
pencilled post-cards which they had written in the train. 
The writing of many post-cards seemed to afford them 
great comfort. While Margaret was filling cups as fast 
as she could, she was often interrupted by men who would 
hold out a penny and ask if she kept postage-stamps. 
Stamps were the only things which were not given away 
in the free-refreshment-room ; a copper always went into 
the little red box when a stamp was taken out. The men 
were eager to get them. 

Another voice would ask for a time-table, and another 
would inquire if she sold pipes ; he had lost his in the train 
and he dreaded the twelve hours’ journey which lay before 
him without the comfort of even his pipe. 

All these demands had to be attended to quickly and 
sympathetically. The twenty minutes which the first batch 
of men had to spend in the station was almost up. On 
record nights the canteen had served three hundred men in 
half an hour. Margaret felt rather than knew that Mi- 
chael was still in the room, that he was standing behind 
the first line of men, looking at her. Her heart was throb- 
bing and her mind distracted. How could she reach him.? 
How could she learn where he was going to? 

His eyes had told her nothing; they had simply gazed 
into hers as though he had seen a vision. Of the surprise 


432 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


and relief which hers had afforded him she knew nothing. 
In the midst of the hurly-burly of hungry, tired soldiers 
she had met his eyes — ^that was all. She had scarcely seen 
his figure. 

The place was emptying. Michael, having stayed to the 
very last second, turned and quickly left the room. Soon 
there would be a lull, but Margaret could not wait for it. 
She put down her can as Michael disappeared and moved 
down the counter to its exit, a little door which opened in- 
wards and allowed her to pass into the room. To reach it 
she had to brush past her aunt. As she did so, she said as 
calmly as she could: 

must fly out to the platform for a few minutes, aunt, 
even if these men go without their tea — I really must go 
and speak to a soldier I know.” 

Her aunt looked at her in astonishment. This new 
emotional Margaret was so very unlike the reliable V.A.D., 
whose dignity was one of her individual charms. 

“Very well, my dear, I can manage. Go along.” 

There was no time for more words — indeed, Margaret 
did not wait to be allowed. She darted out of the refresh- 
ment-room like an arrow freed from the bow. She had 
but one idea, to follow Michael. When the door closed 
behind her, she gazed up the wide expanse of platform. 
She caught sight of him, but he was well ahead, and he was 
walking very quickly. Even if she ran, she doubted if she 
could catch him. After the heat of the room, the air was 
bitingly cold. Margaret did not feel it; her eyes were try- 
ing to keep Michael’s khaki-clad figure in sight. 

She tried, but failed, for soon he was lost in the crowd of 
men who were boarding the train. Bevies of women and 
girls and children had gathered on the platform to see their 
relatives leave for the Front. Before Margaret’s flying feet 
could overtake Michael he had jumped into a carriage and 
was as completely lost to sight as a needle in a stack of hay. 
He was a common Tommy, as heavily-laden, Margaret 
thought, as an Arab-porter, with his accoutrements of war. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


433 


All the window seats in the train had been taken up long 
before he entered it, so it was quite impossible for her to 
distinguish him amongst the late-comers who were strug- 
gling to find even standing-room. 

Margaret stood for a moment or two in breathless de- 
spair. What could she do? He was there somewhere, in 
that very train. She was standing beside it, and yet she 
could not even see him. She was only wasting time; her 
sense of duty urged her to return to the hungry men in 
the refreshment-room. Had she forgotten how eager and 
longing everyone of them was for something to drink.? 

Her conscience might urge her, but for this once she was 
a human, love-hungry girl, as eager to speak to her man as 
the men were to swallow big mouthfuls of tea. With tear- 
blinded eyes she saw the train leave the platform ; she had 
allowed herself that extension of time. After all, if the 
soldiers’ throats were starved for moisture, had not the 
whole of her being suffered a far more acute starvation for 
many, many months.? Her womanhood was crying out for 
its rights. 

As the end of the train was lost to sight, she turned away. 
She was just the girl he had left behind him, forlorn and 
desolate. A soldier’s wife, who was crying healthily, almost 
tripped Margaret up as she swung quickly round. Her 
baby, a tired little fractious creature, was in her arms. 

As Margaret apologized to her, the idea came to her to 
ask the woman where the men in the train were going to. 

“Most of them to the Front,” the woman said. “I lost 
my only brother two months ago, and now my man’s gone. 
Oh, this is a cruel war !” Her sobs became heavier. “When 
my brother went to France, I thought it was a grand thing 
— I was awfully proud. It’s a different thing now.” She 
looked at Margaret keenly. “Has someone you care for 
gone to the Front.? Is he in yon train.?” She indicated 
the vanishing train. 

Margaret’s eyes answered. The woman saw that she was 
making an eflPort to keep calm. 

28 


434 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


‘‘But he’s not leaving his little ones behind him — ye’ll 
no be married? I’ve got two at home to keep.” 

“You have his children — I have nothing,” Margaret said 
enviously. 

The woman burst into fresh weeping. Margaret envied 
her abandonment. 

“They are a comfort,” she said, “in a way. But they’re 
a deal of trouble and anxiety — ye’re well off without them.” 

The woman looked poor and clean. Half a crown left 
Margaret’s purse and took its place beside the coppers 
which lay in the woman’s. It seemed to her horribly vul- 
gar and insulting to offer the woman money as a form of 
comfort, but her knowledge of the very poor told her that 
on a cold ' northern night the feeling that an extra half- 
crown had been added to her income would help. It would 
“keep the home-fire burning” for a week or so, at least. 

With quick feet Margaret retraced her steps to the free- 
refreshment-room. Her selfish absence from her post 
pricked her conscience. When she entered it she saw that 
it was almost empty. One man was lying stretched out at 
full length on a seat; a pillow was under his head and he 
was fast asleep. He had lost his “connection” and would 
not be able to get a train until after midnight. He was 
safe from temptation in the hospitable room. Another 
man was writing letters at the big table; he had already 
addressed half a dozen post-cards. 

Margaret knew that in this quiet interval her aunt would 
be busy washing up and drying the dirty cups at the 
wash-basin in the inner ladies’ room. She hurried to join 
her. 

“Have I been very long?” she said. “I do feel so self- 
ish.” 

“No, no, my dear,” her aunt said quickly. “I managed 
quite well — ^the rush had ceased.” She looked at her niece 
questioningly. “I suppose you recognized a friend?” 

“I saw a man, aunt, amongst the soldiers, whom I knew 
very well in Egypt. He was Freddy’s best friend. I 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


435 


haven’t seen him since. I wonder if he knows that Freddy 
is dead.^ I wanted to speak to him if I could.” 

^‘And did you.^” 

‘‘No.” Margaret’s voice trembled. “He had got into the 
train. The men were packed like sardines, and I couldn’t 
find him. It left punctually to the minute — I hadn’t much 
time to look.” 

Her aunt noticed the emotion in Margaret’s voice. The 
woman in her longed to put a motherly arm round the girl 
as she stood beside her, but her training and national re- 
serve prevented it. So instead of letting her niece see how 
generous her sympathy was, she said, in rather a strident 
voice, the result of her suppressed feeling : 

“There is a good cup of coffee waiting for you in the 
small brown pot, and you’ll find some egg sandwiches on 
a plate on the high shelf above the tumbler-cupboard. Go 
and eat them at once, before a fresh lot of men come in.” 

“Oh, I don’t want anything,” Margaret said pleadingly. 
“Let me help you wash all these cups, please do, aunt. I 
really don’t want anything to eat.” 

“Whether you want it or not, I insist upon your eating 
it. Go now, at once, don’t waste time.” 

Her niece obeyed meekly. When her aunt talked like 
that, and brought those tones into her voice, Margaret in- 
stantly lapsed back into her childhood. She was once more 
the little black sheep of Kingdom-come, the little black 
sheep who, at the death of her parents, had very quickly 
learned to fear rather than to love the various paternal 
relatives who had considered it their duty to bring her up 
in the way a Lampton should go. 

If Margaret’s aunt could only have brought herself to 
speak to her niece as she many times spoke to strangers of 
her, how different things might have been between them! 
But this God-fearing woman never did. She was too God- 
fearing and too little God-loving. She still clung tena- 
ciously to the old order of things, to the method of rearing 


436 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


girls and responding to human nature which had been 
considered wise in her young days. 

While she dried the tea-cups, with a genuine feeling of 
sympathy for Margaret in her heart, for she was convinced 
that this man’s going to the Front had upset her pretty 
niece, and while Margaret ate her sandwiches and drank 
her coflFee because she had been bidden to do so, Michael’s 
train was carrying him through the dark night. He was 
sitting in the corridor, on the top of his kit, lost in thought. 
He had missed his chance of getting a seat in any of the 
overcrowded carriages by his delay in the free-refreshment- 
room. But what did it matter He was accustomed to dis- 
comfort, to unutterable hardships. 

As he sat there, he heard and saw nothing of his sur- 
roundings, for Margaret’s eyes and beauty had given him a 
delicious new world of his own. They had told him that she 
had always trusted him. They had obliterated the war, 
and the fact that he was journeying towards it. They had 
made his pulses throb again with the wine of passion and 
gay romance. He was an individual once more, enjoying 
the sweetness of the woman whose love had been so de- 
voutly his. 

It seemed so odd that the fresh, clean, proud-looking 
girl, with the dark hair and the crimson cross on her 
breast, behind the food counter, was actually the woman 
who had trembled in his arms under the desert stars, for 
her very fear of her love for him. She had once been very, 
very near to him ; she had seemed an indispensable part of 
his life. To-night, standing behind the buffet, although 
she was materially quite close, she was hopelessly far away. 
His only privilege had been to take a cup of tea from her 
hands. A world of fresh experience and emotion had sep- 
arated them. 

For a long time he sat motionless on his kit, dreaming 
only of Margaret. Now it was of the wonderful things 
which her eyes had told him ; now it was of the distance and 
circumstances which separated them. Later on he roused 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


437 


himself out of his reverie, for the men in the carriage at 
whose open door he was sitting were singing, ‘TPs a long, 
long way to Tipperary” — the song had not yet been de- 
popularized by “Keep the home-fires burning”; it was 
still sung by soldiers and civilians and gramophones. The 
lusty, cheery voices brought Michael’s mind back to the 
stern reality of war. He peeped out into the night, lift- 
ing up the blind from the window-pane and putting his 
head under it. 

The cold, bleak day had given place to a starlit night, 
with a high-sailing moon. The snowcapped mountains and 
distant forests of solemn pine-trees looked serenely indiffer- 
ent to the material affairs of mankind. Their purity and 
indifference wounded Michael. How could Nature remain 
so callously superior, so selfishly peaceful, while he was 
hurrying to France, to witness cruelties which it had taken 
the world all its great age to invent and put into action.? 
These cold mountains, rushing streams and hidden glens 
would just go on smiling in the sunshine by day and sleep- 
ing peacefully under the moonlight, while golden youth 
was sacrificing itself on the altar of Liberty. 

As the train rushed on through the darkness, emitting 
sparks which showed her pace, Michael’s thoughts drifted 
to the old African in el-Azhar and all that he had visualized. 
As his eyes peered out from the jealously-covered windows 
and rested on the long line of mountains, high in their 
snowy whiteness, he repeated the old man’s words: 

“Why do the heathen so furiously rage together and the 
people imagine vain things in their hearts ? I tell you, my 
son, it is because they have not the love of God in their 
hearts.” 

Yes, why, oh why, did they do it? The world he looked 
out upon was surely meant for grander and better things? 
It had nothing to do with bloodshed. And yet, even as he 
said it, words and voice answered back: 

“Pray for fortitude, my son, that moral condition which 
enables us to meet danger and endure pain with calmness. 


438 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


I tell you to pray for fortitude, for without it you cannot 
face the future.” 

As his thoughts were lost in this prayer, he got back his 
assurance that this war of wars had to be fought in the 
cause of freedom. He knew that it had to be won by the 
Allies, to ensure the triumph of right over might. This 
was the war which was to terminate all wars ; the victory of 
the Allies was to bring about the disarmament of all power- 
ful nations. It was the forerunner of a higher civilization. 

He put his head between his hands and rested it on his 
knees. He knew that his words were true. And yet, had 
not his old friend in el-Azhar been as sincerely convinced 
that this war which he had visualized was to be fought for 
the triumph of Islam Was he not certain that Allah had 
ordained it to prove to all countries upon the earth that the 
Christian nations had shown that their religion was hide- 
ous in Allah’s sight, that it was a failure, that it had not 
redeemed mankind.^ 

And Germany! What of Germany Michael saw, with 
his vivid imagination and unprejudiced mind, German 
mothers and fathers praying for their sons who were fight- 
ing for the cause of the beloved Fatherland, the cause 
which they believed was the cause of righteousness. Did 
they also not pray earnestly and sincerely.^ Did they, too, 
not believe that God would be on the side of righteousness ? 

Why were these agonized parents and brave soldiers to be 
made to suffer if it was all to be in vain, if their cause was 
not the just cause? Had they not obeyed the cult of their 
land and the teachings of their spiritual pastors and mas- 
ters ? 

He remembered the African’s words: ‘^The time draws 
near when each man will return to the land that gave him 
birth.” 

In this war which was raging, all the soldiers who suf- 
fered, and the parents who gave up their only-begotten sons 
to save their countries from extermination — all of them 
were the victims of circumstances. They were all heroes 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


439 


answering to the call which demanded of them life’s highest 
sacrifice. They were victims of militarism, which must be 
wiped out of civilization. 

Michael became agonized with the hopelessness of an- 
swering the questions which stormed his brain. Over and 
over again he said to himself the words, ‘Why do the 
heathen so furiously rage together and the people imagine 
vain things in their hearts?” And over and over again the 
answer came, “I tell you, my son, it is because they have 
not the love of God in their hearts.” 

He repeated the words almost mechanically until they 
indefinitely became a sort of refrain which kept time to the 
thud, thud of the engine, and the rushing noise of the 
train. 

At last, tired out both mentally and physically, he fell 
asleep. In his dreams Margaret was very near him. It 
was the old Margaret, radiant with the new wonder of love, 
fragrant with the night air of the Sahara which surrounded 
them. 

The war and its demands were wiped out ; the world was 
back again to the fair free days which knew neither hate 
nor fear. 


CHAPTER II 

Nearly four months had passed and Margaret was still a 
pantry-maid in the same private hospital. The V.A.D. who 
was to have gone to France had suffered as great a disap- 
pointment as Margaret, for at the very last moment word 
had been sent to her — it had been unavoidably delayed — 
that her services in France would not yet be required. 
Margaret, with her bigness of nature, had insisted upon 
the girl retaining the post in the wards and letting things 
go on as they were. Her “bit” was very, very dull, but it 
was her “bit,” and nothing she did, she knew, could in any 


440 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


way compare in dullness to the lives of the boys in the 
trenches. So she worked and endured, and found the neces- 
sary change of scene in the mixed company of her garden- 
square society. 

The days fled past. It was a dull life for a young girl, 
but since the war began all girls worthy of their country 
had said good-bye to the pleasures of youth. Youth had 
no time to be young; old age had forgotten that it was old. 
The renaissance of patriotism had transformed England. 
The war recognized neither old age nor youth; it opened 
its hungry jaws and took everyone in. 

Margaret had neither seen nor heard anything of Mi- 
chael since the eventful winter night when she had handed 
him a cup of coffee in the free-refreshment-room at the 
large northern station. She did not even know what regi- 
ment he was in. That, of course, was owing to her own 
stupidity; it was a matter of constant regret to her that 
she had not at the time had the forethought to ask the 
weeping woman on the platform what regiment her husband 
was in. Knowing nothing more than that Michael was at 
the Front, all she could do was to keep an eye on each day’s 
casualty list in The Times newspaper. But even as her 
eyes hastily scanned the long columns of small print, she 
said to herself, ‘T need not look — his name will not be there. 
I have had my assurance of his safety.” 

She was certain now that the mystic message, which lay 
locked away in the dispatch-box which held her most im- 
portant papers, had been sent to her to help her. It had 
been given to her to lessen her loneliness and to ease her 
anxiety. 

Of course, this state of certainty had its feebler moments, 
and many, many times as she did her day’s work she became 
affected by the weaves of pessimism which spread at inter- 
vals over the British Isles. At these times she went about 
the pantry chalk-faced and tragic-eyed; but generally, 
when her suffering was becoming more than she could en- 
dure, from visualizing Michael blind, or limbless, or, still 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


441 


worse, an imbecile through shell-shock, a clear voice would 
speak to her, her super-self would repeat the contents of 
her treasured message. 

The fact that her hand had written the message before 
and not after Michael’s going to the Front established her 
confidence in it. If it had been after, her sound judgment 
told her that suggestion might have had something to do 
with the automatic writing. 

It was early spring, and Margaret’s country-loving na- 
ture cried out for the smell of damp fields, for the scents 
and sounds of untrodden paths. The long twilight even- 
ings seemed the loneliest hours to her in London. Their 
beauty was wasted. But the real country was denied her, 
for what distance could her two-hours-off take her from 
London Scarcely beyond soot-blackened trees and the 
prim avenues of suburban respectability. But she had one 
great pleasure to look forward to — the Iretons were to be 
in London for the season, or, rather, what used to be termed 
the season in London. 

They were to arrive in Clarges Street that very night. 
They were coming to England to help in the arrangements 
for the better equipping of native military hospitals in 
Egypt. Hadassah’s knowledge of the native’s likes and 
dislikes was considerable. 

Margaret was now on her way to a tube railway-station. 
The afternoon was so glorious that she was going to make 
an excursion to Kew. She would just have time to look at 
the maythorns and hurry back. The one brave laburnum 
which gave brightness and fragrance to her garden-square 
told her that in the larger open spaces the flowering shrubs 
would be at their best. 

As she ran down the steps of the tube station, she saw 
that a train which would take her to Hammersmith, where 
she would have to change for Kew Gardens, was drawn up 
at the platform ; the passengers who were leaving it were try- 
ing to ascend the stairs. With youthful lightness she leapt 
down the last two or three steps and sprang across the plat- 


442 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


form. She only just had time to step into the train before 
the iron gate closed behind her. 

A little breathless with excitement and greatly pleased 
that she had succeeded in catching the train, she obeyed 
the order of the officious guard to ‘‘Step along — don’t block 
the gangway !” 

The carriage was not full, but there were not many 
empty seats in it, so Margaret hastily sank into the one 
which was nearest to her and close to the door. It hap- 
pened to be next to one on which a soldier was seated. His 
kit was lying at his feet in front of him. As she sat down, 
a voice said quietly: 

“I’d advise you to sit a little further off — I’m not very 
nice.” 

Margaret never grasped the meaning of the words; the 
voice was all she heard. It made her heart bound, and her 
senses reel ; her bewilderment was overwhelming. 

Some instinct made the soldier swing right round; he 
had been sitting with his broad back turned to the vacant 
seat, which Margaret still occupied. They faced each 
other; the soldier was Michael. 

Under his ardent gaze Margaret paled pitifully and 
made a valiant effort to speak, to collect her thoughts. All 
that came from her trembling lips were the prosaic words, 
rather timidly spoken: 

“Is it you, Michael 

They seemed to content Michael and tell him a thousand 
things which dazed and intoxicated him. His surprise was 
even greater than Margaret’s. 

“Yes, it is me, Meg,” he said. “Thank God we’ve met !” 

For Margaret, in one moment all the long months of 
doubt and pride were wiped out. Michael’s eyes had ban- 
ished them. Her characteristic courage and her self-pos- 
session returned. She put her hand on the top of Mi- 
chael’s, the one which held his rifle. Her touch thrilled the 
soldier home from the Front ; it travelled through his veins 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 443 

like an electric current. Margaret’s eyes had dropped ; now 
they met her lover’s again. 

The train in its narrow channel under the city was mak- 
ing such a noise that it was impossible to hear even a loud 
voice above its hideous rattle. There are few noises more 
devastating to conversation than the awful roar of a Lon- 
don tube-railway. But Love speaks with an eloquence 
which no noise can drown ; its sympathy and passion carry 
it far above the din and noise of battle. Margaret and 
Michael knew it well. If Love depended upon words, what 
a poor cold thing it would be ! No quarrels would ever be 
settled, no journeys end in lovers’ meetings. 

Michael moved the hand which Margaret clasped. It 
was hard to do it, but he felt compelled to. 

^T’m horribly verminous,” he said, apologetically. ^T’m 
just back from the trenches — you ought to keep further 
off.” 

Margaret’s eyes dropped; a flame of love’s shyness 
spread over her glowing face. It heightened her beauty 
and bewildered Michael. He longed to take her in his 
arms and kiss her — even before the whole carriage-full of 
people. Perhaps in the early days of the war the scene 
would only have brought tears and tender smiles to worldly 
eyes. 

Margaret tried to say something, she scarcely knew what 
— ^just anything to break the passion of their silence, but 
the roaring of the train drowned her trembling question. 
How she hated the swaying and groaning and the rattling 
of the tube train as it dashed through its confined way! 
Never before had it seemed so awful, so maddening. 

Michael, too, was tongue-tied. How could he offer Mar- 
garet any explanation, or ask if she had understood, while 
the train drowned the loudest voices ? What a hideous place 
for a lovers’ meeting, after months of weary longing! 

When the train drew up at Knightsbridge Margaret rose 
from her seat. Her desire to see Kew had fled. It mattered 
little now where she went; she was only conscious of the 


444 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


fact that she must put an end to the present strain. If 
Michael was as anxious to speak to her as she was to speak 
to him, he would follow her. He was obviously home on 
leave. He was a free man. 

As she rose from her seat, Michael hurriedly gathered his 
kit together and rose also, and pushed his way through the 
crowd of passengers who were disgorging from the train. 
Whatever happened, he must keep her in sight; her obvi- 
ously unpremeditated leaving of the train left him in doubt 
as to her feelings towards him. 

He was on leave, he was in ^^Blighty,” and Margaret was 
only a few steps ahead. He would risk anything rather 
than let her disappear and be lost once more. 

When Margaret reached the platform, she turned round. 
She wondered if Michael had left the train. He was stand- 
ing by her side. She laughed delightedly, a girl’s healthy 
laugh, and gave a breathless gasp. 

“May I.?” he said. “I have risked annoying you.” 

“Annoying me!” Margaret’s eyes banished the idea; 
they carried him off his feet. He was a soldier, home from 
the war; she was a girl, fresh and sweet. She laid her hand 
on his arm. “I’m not angry, Michael — I never was angry. 
Besides, you’re . . . you’re . . .” she hesitated. “You’re 
a Tommy,” she said, “and I love every one of them.” 

Michael knew that her shyness made her link him with 
the men who were fighting for their country. Even with 
the fondest lovers, there is a nervous shyness between them 
for the first moments of meeting after a prolonged separa- 
tion. Margaret had moved closer to his side. His passion 
drew her to him ; it was like the current of a magnet. 

“You mustn’t stand so close,” he said, laughingly. “I’m 
horribly verminous — really I am!” 

“As if I cared, Mike!” Margaret’s words poured from 
her lips. Ordinary as they'^were, they were a love-lyric to 
his ears. 

“May I come with you.^” he asked. “Where were you 
going to ? I’ve so much to say, so much to ask you !” 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 445 

‘T was going to Kew,” she said, blushingly. ‘^But I 
changed my mind.” 

Their eyes laughed as they met; he knew why she had 
changed her plans. 

As they went up the station steps together, they were 
separated by a number of people who were hurrying to 
catch the next train. When they reached the open street, 
Michael made a signal to the driver of a taxi-cab who was 
touting for passengers. He instantly . drew up, jumped 
from his seat and opened the door. Michael stood beside 
him, while Margaret, obeying his eyes, stepped into the 
cab. She asked herself no questions; she was only con- 
scious of Michael’s air of protection and possession. After 
her lonely life in London, it almost made her cry. It was 
the most delicious feeling she had ever experienced. She 
gave herself up to it. 

In Michael’s presence her pride and dignity and wounded 
womanhood were swept away. Even Freddy, in his soldier’s 
grave, was forgotten. Her whole life and world was Mi- 
chael; he began it and ended it. This verminous and 
roughly-dressed Tommy, who was gazing at her with eyes 
which bewildered and humbled her, was the dearest thing on 
earth. 

She was comfortably seated ; Michael had shut the door, 
and they were side by side, waiting for the taxi to go on. 
The next moment the driver popped his head in at the win- 
dow. 

‘‘Where to, sir.?^” he said, politely. Michael’s worn, 
weatherbeaten face had called up his sentiment for the men 
at the front. i 

“Where to.?” Michael repeated foolishly. He paused. 
“Oh, anywhere ! Anywhere will do — it doesn’t matter.” He 
smiled. “I’m back in old Blighty — ^that’s all that matters — 
anywhere is good enough for me.” 

“Right you are, sir ! I’ll take you somewhere pleasant.” 

Margaret smiled. She was, indeed, all smiles and heart- 
beats and nervous anticipation. 


446 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


The moment the taxi had swung away from the station, 
it entered a quiet street, bordered with high houses on either 
side. Michael lost no time; he folded her in his arms and 
kissed her again and again, and held her to him. 

‘‘This is heaven, just heaven, darling!” he said ardently. 
“I could eat you all up, you’re so fresh and sweet and de- 
licious !” 

Meg was unresisting. Her yielding told her lover more 
than hours of explanation could have done. All she said 
was: 

“But what if I don’t think it’s heaven?” 

“What indeed?” he said, happily. “But don’t you?” 
He had released her to read her answer in her eyes. 

She said nothing ; words seemed for lighter moments. 

“Say something nice,” he pleaded. 

“I love you, Mike,” she said shyly. “Is that enough?” 

“It’s all I want,” he said, while Meg wound her arms 
round his neck and drew his face nearer hers to receive her 
kiss. As she nestled against him, he said tenderly, “Re- 
member, I’m verminous ; I’m not fit to touch, dearest.” 

“I don’t care ! I doil’t mind if I get covered with them,” 
she laughed. “And I don’t care if all the world sees me 
kissing you ! I just love you, Mike, and you’re here — noth- 
ing in all the world matters except that!” 

She unclasped her hands. Her weeping face was pressed 
to his rough uniform; horrible as it was, she was kissing it 
tenderly, almost devoutly, stroking it with her fingers. It 
gave her a sense of pride and assurance that he was there 
beside her. 

In the beautiful way known to love and youth, the fool- 
ish things they said and left unsaid told them whispers of 
the wonderful things which were to be. Michael was too 
exacting in his demands to allow of sustained conversation ; 
sentences lost themselves in “one more kiss,” or in one more 
bewildering meeting of happy eyes. 

At last Michael said — not without a feeling of nervous- 
ness, for he had asked few questions, and the scraps of 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


447 


information which Margaret had volunteered he had so 
often interrupted by his own impetuous demands, that she 
had accepted the fact that all explanations and question- 
ing must wait until the excitement of their meeting had 
abated — ‘^Why did Freddy not answer my letters? Why 
did you leave Egypt without one word?” 

His voice expressed the fact that his letters had contained 
the full explanation of his conduct. It also said, ‘^Why 
this forgiveness, if you were so unkind?” 

It brought a strange revelation to Margaret of the rav- 
ages of war, of the changes which it had made in their 
lives. She remained lost in thought. 

‘Will Freddy consent? Will he understand, as you do?” 

Margaret shivered. Her hand left Michael’s ; her fingers 
touched the band of crepe which she was wearing on her 
uniform coat-sleeve. 

“No, no, Meg!” he cried. “Not Freddy ! Anybody but 
Freddy !” His words were a cry of horror, of anguish. In 
the surprise and excitement of their meeting, he had for- 
gotten to ask for Freddy. Even though he was in his 
soldier’s uniform, his happiness had obliterated the war. 
He had the true soldier’s temperament — a fighter while 
fighting had to be done, a lover of pleasure in peace-time. 

“Yes,” she said, “Freddy. He was only in Flanders a 
few weeks.” 

Michael put his arms round her tenderly, protectingly. 
“You poor little girl, you brave little woman 1” 

Margaret loved his anguish, his complete understanding 
of the fact that of all people it was Freddy who should 
have been spared. 

“If you had only seen him, Mike ! He was so young, so 
fair. And he never had a chance.” 

Michael’s eyes questioned her words. 

“He was just sniped at the very beginning. That was 
the hardest part of it — ^to know that all his talents and in- 
tellect had been wasted!” 


448 THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 

Michael held her closer. ‘‘Not wasted, dearest, don’t say 
that.” 

“I didn’t exactly mean wasted. But he could have done 
such great things for the world; he could surely have been 
given work more worthy of his abilities !” 

“He is doing wonderful things now, Meg, he’s hard at 
work. Freddy just got his promotion — look at it that 
way.” He kissed her trembling lips; tears were flooding 
her glorious eyes. 

“That’s what Hadassah says.” 

“Hadassah.?” 

“Yes, Hadassah.” Margaret sighed. “Oh, Michael, we 
have so much to talk about — ^whatever shall we do?” She 
laughed tearfully. Telling Michael about Freddy’s death 
had brought back the anguish of tjie year which had sep- 
arated them. “You can’t imagine how kind and sweet she 
has been to me, and how hard they both tried to find you !” 
She paused. “Freddy tried, too — ^he was the best and 
dearest brother, Mike.” 

“I know it,” he said; his words were a groan. He was 
trying to grasp the truth of Margaret’s news. Nothing 
which he had seen in the war brought its waste and sacrifice 
more vividly before his eyes than the fact that Freddy was 
dead, the living, vital Freddy, the energetic, brilliant 
Freddy, whom he always visualized picking up the gleam- 
ing gems in the vast Egyptian tomb ; he saw the scene with 
painful clearness. 

There was a little silence. Margaret’s hands were clasped 
tightly in the sunburnt hands of her “Tommy.” Freddy 
was in both their minds, and the life they had shared with 
him in the Valley — the sense of order and method and ar- 
dour for work which he had instilled into their days. 

Margaret was resting against Michael, as open about 
her love for him as any ’Arriet. She could think of Freddy 
without any feeling of guilt or even doubt of his approval. 
The things which come from within cannot be explained by 
forces from without. It was not what Michael had done 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


449 


or had said which had banished her pride and told her of 
his faithfulness. It was the consciousness which came from 
within, the consciousness which had always fought back the 
forces from without. She had not felt one qualm of con- 
science, for Freddy was understanding and approving. He 
would know that any doubt she had ever had had been 
banished the moment Michael had taken her in his arms. 
Freddy, who had only blamed him for his weakness, would 
realize that even in that he had misjudged him. If Michael 
had had any guilt on his conscience, he would never have 
behaved as he had done. He had read in her eyes that her 
love for himself was unchanged, and knowing himself to be 
worthy of her love, he had not stopped to consider smaller 
things. She was so thankful that he had taken the bull by 
the horns. 

And now they were thinking of less bewildering things 
than their own love for each other. Michael was tenderly 
dreaming of Freddy. Margaret was reviewing Freddy’s 
true attitude towards Michael in her mind. It was true that 
he had said that until he gave some satisfactory explanation 
of his behaviour, she was not to treat him as her lover. 
Well, her finer senses told her that Michael had given her a 
satisfactory explanation, and she was certain that Freddy 
also knew it. He had, by his taking her inthis arms with- 
out one word of pleading or explanation, given her the 
fairest and most perfect assurance of his faithfulness to her 
and of his right to ask for her love. 

These thoughts passed^ rapidly through her mind, while 
she silently enjoyed the delight of feeling Michael’s close 
presence by her side. Never, even in Egypt, under the 
high-sailing moon in the great Sahara, had she loved him as 
romantically as she did at this moment. As a weather- 
stained, wind-tanned Tommy he was dearer to her than ever 
he had been in the days when, as a painter and an Egyptol- 
ogist, he had opened her eyes to a new world of intellectual 
on j 03^ment. 


29 


450 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


Michael’s mind was obsessed by Freddy’s death. He had 
never for one moment imagined that such a thing was in the 
least likely to happen. He did not know that Freddy was 
at the Front ; he had imagined to himself that such excep- 
tional brains and unusual qualities would have been given 
other work to do, than to stand all day long knee-deep in 
mud in the trenches of Flanders. His heart ached for 
Margaret. Her devotion to Freddy was exceptional; her 
pride in him had been the keynote of her existence. He 
spoke abruptly, while his hands clasped hers hungrily and 
tightly. 

“Would Freddy mind.^” he said. “I can’t be disloyal to 
him !” 

“Mind.^” Meg said questioningly. “Mind my loving 
you ? He knew my love could never change — it was born in 
unchanging Egypt.” 

“Yes, mind if you married me while I’m on leave.? — I’ve 
got a whole fortnight, and my commission.” 

“Oh!” Meg said breathlessly. “You go at such a pace!” 

Michael laughed boyishly at her astonishment. Her 
woman’s mind had not thought of marriage; it was satisfied 
with the present conditions. 

“I don’t think Freddy would mind — not now. But” 
— her laugh joined Michael’s — “you see, you haven’t asked 
if I’d mind. We aren’t even engaged — you wouldn’t be. 
Do you remember.?” 

Michael pulled round her head with his hands, and kissed 
her lips. “I don’t care if the whole world sees,” he said, 
quoting her words. “Don’t pull away your head — I’m just 
^a bloomin’ Tommy’ back in Blighty with his girl.” 

Meg resigned herself to his kisses. “All London’s doing 
it,” she said breathlessly. “You’ll see fathers and sons, and 
mothers and sons, and lovers walking arm in arm, in the 
West End even. Their time together is too short and 
precious to think of stupid conventions. The national re- 
serve of the English nation is swept away.” 

While Margaret was speaking, she was thinking and 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


451 


thinking. Could she marry him before he returned to the 
Front It was all so sudden. But why not? War had 
taught women to take what happiness they could get in 
their two hands, not to let it slip. Michael made her 
thoughts more definite. 

‘‘Did Freddy trust me?” he asked. » 

Meg’s eyes dropped; her heart beat painfully. 

“He didn’t,” Michael said. “Don’t pain yourself, dear- 
est, by answering. He’ll understand better now — every- 
thing will be made clear.” 

“Don’t blame him, Mike!” 

“I’m not blaming him — I’d have done the same. It 
sounded beastly, the whole story. Hang Millicent Mervill 1” 

Margaret proceeded to tell him in broken sentences that 
she had seen Millicent in Cairo, and related something of 
what she had told her and how, after that, she had kept 
the promise which she had made to Freddy, to go back to 
England if she heard from either Michael himself or from 
Millicent that they had been together in the desert. 

“And you heard that she was in my camp ?” 

“Yes — Millicent took care that I heard that, and ...” 
she paused. 

Michael looked into her eyes. “And you went back to 
England ?” 

“Yes, I kept my promise.” Her eyes told him that she 
had kept it because her honour demanded it, not because 
she believed all that Millicent had told her. 

“And, knowing her story, you didn’t condemn me, you 
still believed in me and loved me?” His eyes thanked her. 

Margaret returned his steadfast gaze. “Yes, it was not 
hard to trust you, Mike. I remembered our promise to help 
and trust one another. What are promises and vows made 
for if they are not to be kept when they are put to the test? 
We did not make ours lightly — I told you I should under- 
stand.” 

“Dearest, how beautiful your love is ! To-day you wel- 
comed me without one shadow of reproach! Had I not 


452 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


read in your eyes all that I did, I should not have dared to 
follow you when you left the train.” 

‘‘Would you have taken me in your arms if you had been 
guilty, if Millicent had told the truth The words con- 
veyed a world of meaning to Michael. “I have often 
grumbled, Mike — I have thought that you might have let 
me hear the story from your own lips, or by letter. I know 
that in his heart Freddy always thought you were only to 
be blamed for allowing her to stay in your camp — I know 
he never really believed that you had arranged the meet- 
ing, or that you were her lover.” 

Michael grasped her two hands in his, tightly. “I 
never was, Meg, I never was! I hated her for coming, I 
tried to get rid of her.” 

“I knew it, Mike — deep, deep down I knew it. But it 
hurt.” She leaned against him. “Oh, how it hurt, dearest ! 
And you never wrote or explained — that was what I found 
hardest to bear. I suppose you were so certain that I 
trusted you that you never thought about what others 
might say; but love makes us exacting, jealous, and you 
might have written, dearest ! Then Freddy would have 
known. How could I make him understand all that my 
heart knew.? How can one make others see the things which 
come from within.?” 

Michael put his arms round her. “My darling,” he said, 
“I did write, I wrote often. I wrote directly Millicent ap- 
peared in the desert; I wrote again before I was ill. You 
know how many letters go astray — you know how many 
were intercepted by German spies before the war broke 
out.” 

“You were ill.?” Meg started. “I knew you were, I told 
Freddy you were ill. But Millicent spoke as if you were 
in such perfect health that I had to abandon the convic- 
tion.” Her voice was an apology. 

“I was so ill with fever,” Michael said, “that I wasn’t 
able to write, and the faithful Abdul couldn’t. Like many 
Arabs, he can speak a smattering, and a very fair one, of 


453 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 

three or four languages, but he can’t write a line in any 
one of them. As soon as I was strong enough to travel I 
went back to the Valley.” 

‘^Oh, did you.^” He felt Margaret tremble as she said 
the words. 

“I went back to find our Eden a barren desert, Meg, no 
sign of either Freddy or you in it. It was horrible. I 
started off to Cairo in hopes of learning from the Iretons 
where you had gone to, to discover what you had heard of 
Millicent.” His pressure of Meg’s hands explained the full 
meaning of his words. ‘‘But they had left Cairo — it was 
very hot — so I returned to England by way of Italy. In 
Naples I had a slight relapse — I had to wait there for some 
time, until I was able to continue my journey. I only ar- 
rived in London the day before war was declared. Of 
course I volunteered at once — I was glad to do it. Life 
seemed empty of all its former sweetness. I don’t think I 
cared what happened to me ; and I did care what happened 
to England and Belgium. I was at last going to fight in 
the great fight against absolute monarchy and militarism !” 

When Michael had finished his short account of his do- 
ings, which merely touched on essentials, they realized that 
they were in Hyde Park. Margaret’s eyes had caught 
sight of a clock over the gateway as they entered ; she had 
noticed how her two hours were flying, even while her con- 
scious self was enthralled with her lover’s story. Spring 
was in the year; it was in the hearts of the united lovers. 
Love smiled to them from the budding shrubs and from the 
daffodils swaying in the breeze. 

To Michael “Blighty” was the most beautiful land in the 
world. His heart was so burdened with happiness that 
Margaret had to laugh at his high spirits and absurd re- 
marks. He was the old enthusiastic Mike, delighting in 
life and embracing it rapturously. 

In the midst of this intoxication of happiness, Mar- 
garet’s sense of duty and responsibility, her Lampton char- 
acteristics, urged her. The clock over the archway had 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


454 

subconsciously reminded her that she was, after all, a pan- 
try-maid in a hospital full of wounded soldiers; that the 
soldier by her side was a part and portion of the great war ; 
that war, not love, ruled the world ; this interlude had been 
stolen from the God of Battles. 

“Time’s flying, dearest,” she said. “I’ve less than one 
more hour. Let’s drive to a little garden-square close to 
my hospital — we can dismiss the taxi there and talk until 
I have to go in — that’s to say, if you are free to come.” 

“Are you nursing?” he said. His eyes looked question- 
ingly at her blue uniform. 

“No, not yet — I’m a pantry-maid.” 

“A what.^” he said, laughingly. “You’re a darling!” 

“I wash up tea-cups and saucers which Tommies drink 
from, and lay out trays with tea-cups and saucers all day 
long.” She paused. “That’s as near as I’ve got to the 
war.” 

“With your brains, Meg — is that all they could find for 
you to do?” His encircling arm hugged her closely. Each 
moment she was becoming more desirable and beautiful in 
his eyes; each moment life in the trenches seemed further 
and further away. 

“Freddy was sniped,” Margaret said, “before he even 
killed a German. Washing up dirty cups makes me mind it 
less.” 

“You dear darling,” Michael said. “I understand and 
Freddy knows.” 

“I’ll tell the man where to drive to,” Margaret said 
bravely. “Then we can be together until I have to begin 
work.” She raised the speaking-tube to her lips and told 
the driver where to go, explaining the most direct way to 
the secluded square. 

When she dropped the tube and sank back into her seat 
Michael’s arm was round her ; she had felt his eyes and their 
passion, gazing at her while she instructed the driver. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


455 


‘‘Will you marry me the day after to-morrow?” he said. 
“I’ll get a special license. Let’s start this little time of per- 
fect happiness at once, Meg — it may never come again.” 

Meg laughed nervously, but there was gladness in the 
sound of her voice. “But, Mike, it’s so sudden — the day 
after to-morrow !” 

“So was our love, darling — don’t you remember?” He 
paused. “Am I asking too much? You might be my wife 
for less than two weeks, beloved, remember that.” 

They looked into each other’s eyes. Meg knew the mean- 
ing of his words ; he was a Tommy on leave. 

“I can’t go on having hairbreadth escapes to the end of 
the war,” he said. “Up to now I’m the mascot amongst 
the boys; I’ve had prodigious luck.” 

Meg remained silent. Her heart was beating. His hair- 
breadth escapes — what were they due to? She saw her 
vision of him in her London bedroom, surrounded by the 
frays of Aton. She nursed the knowledge of it in her 
heart — she dared not tell him. 

“Over and over again, Meg, the most extraordinary 
things have happened. I can’t tell you them all now — they 
would sound like exaggerations, but I’m almost beginning 
to agree with the boys that I’ve a charmed life.” 

Meg longed to confide her secret to him, but something 
held her back ; something said to her that he was not meant 
to know it, that if he knew he might be tempted to do still 
more foolhardy deeds, he would feel compelled to put her 
mystical message to the test. She remained silent; her 
mind was working too quickly for speech. She had for- 
gotten that Michael wanted her answer. Her heart had 
given it so willingly that words were scarcely needed, but 
he pressed her for her consent. There are some words 
which lovers like to hear spoken by beautiful lips. 

“You are the mistress of my happiness,” he urged. 
“And if our happiness in this world is to be condensed into 
twelve days, surely it would be worth while seizing it and 
being thankful for it? In this world of agony and death, 


456 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


twelve days of life at its fullest is of more account than a 
long lifetime of unrecognized benefits and indefinite happi- 
ness.” 

Meg agreed that the war had taught people to be thank- 
ful for what seemed to her pitifully small mercies; people 
married for ten days or for a fortnight at the longest, 
knowing that for that little time of forgetfulness their hus- 
bands were among the quick ; at the end of it they might be 
among the dead. 

‘^Then, if I can get a special license to-morrow, will you 
marry me the day after If I may go back to the Front 
as your husband, Meg, I think I can win the war. My life 
will be more charmed than ever.” He laughed gaily. 
‘^What will the boys say.?^ Pm the only one in the trench 
who doesn’t write to about six girls every day, telling each 
one that she is the only girl he loves.” 

Margaret’s answer was in her laugh, which was all love, 
and in the lips she held up to meet Michael’s kiss. ^‘And 
it’s proud I’ll be to be Mrs. Amory!” she said. “And ye 
can tell the boys that, if you like.” She broke off suddenly 
from her mock Irish tones, and said more gravely, “Isn’t 
it wonderful Only an hour ago I was alone in London, 
so lonely that the very flowers hurt me ! I hated the spring 
in the year — it laughed at my dull room and humdrum 
existence. And now ” 

“And now,” he said, “you are going to be a soldier’s 
wife, you are going to marry a verminous Tommy in two 
days’ time, you darling!” 

Meg looked at her own dark uniform. “I don’t see even 
one,” she said, “but I’ll have to be careful. I’ll change 
when I go in. Are you really as bad as that?” 

“I tried to clean myself up a bit,” he said. “But I have 
been awful. That’s the thing I hate most about the hole 
business. I’ve got used to all the other discomforts long 
ago, and to everything else.” 

“Even to the killing of human beings, Mike?” 

“Yes,” he said. “Even to the killing of brave men. I 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


457 


know what you’re saying to yourself — I thought that too, 
I thought it would send me mad, I longed to kill myself to 
get out of it. But, in an attack, when you’ve seen your 
own jolly pals, who have lived in the trenches with you, 
bleeding and tattered, spatchcocked against barbed wire, 
and had to leave them sticking to it, their eyes haunt you, 
your blood gets up, you long for a hundred hands to shoot 
with, instead of only two. When you’ve seen the result of 
Prussian militarism on decent German soldiers, you know 
that it’s your duty to destroy it, to give the German people, 
as well as the rest of the world, their freedom and rights.” 

‘Tf only w^ could get at the Prussian military power, and 
spare the wretched soldiers — they are all sons and husbands, 
and somebody’s darlings,” Meg said pathetically. 

‘^But we can’t. It’s their punishment, perhaps, poor 
devils, for having submitted to such an arrogant, absolute 
monarchy. To get at the rulers we have to slaughter the 
innocent. It sounds all wrong, but I know it’s the only 
way.” 

‘T suppose so,” Margaret said. ‘‘But it does seem hard, 
just because they have been law-abiding, industrious, obe- 
dient subjects, they are to be slaughtered like sheep and 
made to do all sorts of cruel acts which will brand them for 
ever as barbarians in the eyes of the world. There must 
be thousands and thousands of them who are decent men.” 

“There is a saying that every country has the Government 
it deserves. They have got theirs. A German Liberal has 
written these words to-day, or something like them. He 
says, ‘Peace and war are, after all, not so much the result of 
foreign policy (strange though it may appear) as the in- 
evitable consequences of the inward constitution of the 
State. “International anarchy” is not a thing apart, but 
only the natural consequence of feudal military institutions. 
Hence away with these institutions.’ ” 

“But will they ever away with them in Germany?” 

“Not unless we, the Allies, crush the feudal military con- 


468 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


stitution ; not until the people realize that their submission 
has brought this war upon themselves.” 

‘‘But surely up to now we have admired law-abiding, un- 
complaining peoples 

“I haven’t,” Michael laughed. “You know I haven’t.” 

“Oh no, you haven’t! But then you’re a firebrand, al- 
ways ‘agin the Government.’ ” 

“I always walked on my head.” He hugged her as he 
spoke. “I’m doing it to-day, darling.” 

“Poor old Freddy!” Margaret said. “If he could only 
hear us now, he’d think I was anti-war, and you were pro- 
war.” She sighed. “If he could only see you in a Tom- 
my’s uniform, defending the morality of taking human 
lives !” 

salt, Meg.^ He probably sees far more of it than 
you or I do. Don’t you make any mistake about that. He 
knows that I’m fighting in the war because I’m anti-war, 
with a vengeance. If this war isn’t won by the Allies, Meg, 
there will be no end to war. It will never cease ; it will burst 
out at intervals until the Kaiser’s Alexandrian and Na- 
poleonic dream is accomplished. If he wins this war, he’ll 
turn his eyes in other directions, for new worlds to conquer. 
With Europe subdued, there is Egypt, India, America. 
Lamartine said, ‘It is not the country, but liberty, that is 
most imperilled by war.’ ” 

“What did he mean.?^” Margaret asked. 

“ ‘That every victorious war means for the victorious 
nation a loss of political liberty, whilst for the vanquished 
it is a foundation of inspiration and democratic pro- 
gress.’ 

“Oh, Mike, and if we win.? I mean, when we win.?” 

“As our cause is the cause of right over might, ours is 
not a war of aggression or annexation. He was speaking 
of an aggressive war.” 

“Who was speaking.?” 

“Well, I was voicing Hermann Fernau, the brave Liberal 
IHermann Fernau: The Coming Democracy, 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


459 


who is exiled from the Fatherland. I can’t give you his 
exact words, but he says something like this in his wonder- 
ful book, Germany and Democracy : Tor what would hap- 
pen if we Germans emerged victorious from this war? Our 
victory would only mean a strengthening of the dynastic 
principle of arbitrary power all along the line. Those of 
us who bewail the political backwardness of our Fatherland 
must realize that a German victory would prolong this 
backward condition for centuries. And not only Germany, 
but the whole of Europe, would have to suffer the conse- 
quences.’ ” 

‘Taney a German saying that!” 

“There are some sane Germans left, darling. Fernau 
belongs to the small band of German Liberals who have 
been driven from their country.” 

The taxi had reached the garden-square. They got out 
and Michael prodigally overpaid the driver. The man took 
the money. 

“I’d have driven you for nothing, sir,” he said delight- 
edly, “if the car was my own. I was young once, and so 
was the missus.” He saluted respectfully. 

As they turned into the quiet little garden, Michael said 
happily, “Why, Meg, what a dear little bit of France! 
How did you discover it?” 

“My hospital’s just across the square, and so is my bed- 
room. This is my sitting-room.” 

They found a quiet seat amongst the tombstones and sat 
down, a typical resort for a Tommy and his sweetheart. 
When they had been seated for a few moments, Michael 
said: 

“It’s a far cry to the Valley, and the little wooden hut, 
and the tombs of the Pharaohs, Meg.” 

Meg’s eyes swept the garden-square; the laburnum-tree 
was shedding flakes of gold from its long tassels ; they were 
falling like yellow rain in the spring breeze. 

“Very, very far,” she said as her eyes pointed to the 
smoke-begrimed tombstones. “Here the homes of the dead 


460 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


seem so forsaken, so humble. Death has triumphed. In 
the Valley the dead were the eternal citizens, their homes 
were immortal. The^dead have no abiding cities here, and 
even the palaces of the living will be crumbled into powder 
before Egypt’s tombs show any signs of wear and decay.” 

Their thoughts having turned to Egypt, beautiful mem- 
ories were recalled. Often broken sentences spoke volumes. 
Their time was very short, so short that Love devised a sort 
of shorthand conversation, which saved a thousand words. 

And so for the rest of Margaret’s precious hour they 
talked and dreamed and loved. There was so much to ex- 
plain and so much to tell on both sides that, as Margaret 
laughingly said, they would both still be trying to get 
through their ‘^bit” when Michael would have to leave for 
the Front. 

Margaret just left herself time to hurry upstairs and 
change her uniform in her lodgings before she returned to 
the hospital. Michael waited for her in the square. 

Before they left it, Margaret said, ‘T want you to shake 
hands with an old friend of mine. We’ll have to pass her 
seat; she is always here. She’s a great character, an old 
actress — such a good sort.” 

As they passed the shabby little woman, picking down old 
uniforms, Meg stopped. The woman looked up; her eyes 
brightened. The V.A.D. had a soldier with her — her lover, 
she could see that at a glance. He had brought an atmos- 
phere of romance and passion into the laburnum-lit garden. 

Margaret introduced Michael, who was perfectly at his 
ease on such an occasion. 

‘‘My friend has arrived from the Front,” she said. “We 
lare going to be married the day after to-morrow . . .” 
she paused, “ . . . that is to say, if I can get leave from 
my hospital for a week.” 

The woman looked up at the handsome couple. “Well, 
what a surprise !” she said, as she stared hard at Michael. 
“Who w^ould ever have thought that you were going to be 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 461 

married so soon? You never even told me you were en- 
gaged! You were very sly.” She smiled happily. 

Margaret laughed at her astonished expression. ‘T 
mustn’t stop to tell you about it now,” she said. ^^My time 
is up — I ought to be back in ten minutes to my cups and 
saucers. I just wanted you to shake hands with the man 
I’m going to marry.” 

The woman rose from her seat. As she did so, the old 
scarlet coat which she had been unpicking fell to her feet. 
She glanced at her hands, as much as to say, ‘^They aren’t 
very clean.” Michael held out his, ignoring her hesitation, 
and gave her slender, artist’s fingers a hearty shake and 
warm grasp. 

The old actress’s emotions were kindled ; poverty had not 
dimmed the romance of her world. 

‘‘You’ll do, sir,” she said. “You’ll do — you’ll do for the 
sweetest and truest lady that lives in London town.” 

“We have your blessing, then?” he said gaily. “And 
you’ll look after her when I’m at the Front — promise me 
that?” 

“That I will, sir. But it’s she who looks after me, and 
more than me.” She cast her eyes round the strange neigh- 
bourhood. “Looks after us and helps us in a hundred 
different ways.” But she was speaking to Michael’s re- 
treating figure, for Margaret and her lover had left her. 
As* she watched his swinging strides, she murmured to her- 
self, “He’ll do for her — there’s no mistaking his kind. 
He’ll do for her.” Her thoughts flew to familiar scenes. 
“There was something in his voice which reminded me of 
. . .” she recalled a celebrated actor. “He would make 
a fine Hamlet, a heavenborn Hamlet.” 

As they left the gardens Margaret said, “I have a feel- 
ing, Mike, that someone has been watching us ever since 
we came into the gardens — ^have you ?” 

“No,” Michael said. “I hadn’t any eyes or ears for any- 
thing but you.” 


462 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


Margaret smiled. ‘‘1 felt it,” she said, “rather than saw 
it. But, just this minute, didn’t you see that dark figure.^” 

“No. Anyhow, let them watch — I don’t care. Every- 
body’s doing it.” His arm was round her. 

Meg laughed, but not so whole-heartedly, and when she 
was saying good-bye to him at the hospital, she said, nerv- 
ously and anxiously, “There’s that black figure again — 
she’s just passed us. I saw her yesterday — she watched me 
go in after my hours off.” 

In spite of that fact, Margaret kissed her Tommy quite 
openly and flagrantly and in the broad daylight. She had 
promised to walk with him again on the next afternoon dur- 
ing her hours off, and to marry him the day after, if he got 
the license and she got her leave. 

When they had parted she said to herself, “Ours will be 
a war-wedding with a vengeance! When I went out for 
my two hours this afternoon I was absolutely free, not 
even engaged. Now,” she blushed beautifully, “I am the 
bride-elect of a Tommy home on leave for a fortnight!” 

After her day’s work was done, she tried to find the busy 
matron. When she found her, she went straight to the 
point — it was Margaret’s way. 

“I want to get married the day after to-morrow,” she 
said. “Could you get someone to take my place.? Can you 
let me go.?” 

“For good, do you mean.?” The matron was scarcely 
surprised. These sudden marriages were all a part of her 
day’s work, the flower and the passion of war. 

Margaret’s eyes brightened. “If you could get a tem- 
porary V.A.D., I think I’d like to come back when he’s 
gone.” 

The older woman looked at her. “I think you’d better 
take a rest. You’ve been at this dull job for a long time 
now. Don’t you think you would be better for it.?” 

“Perhaps you are right,” Margaret said. “I really 
haven’t had time to consider details — I’d only got as far as 
wanting the week while he is at home, to get married in.” 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


463 


‘^Take it, by all means,” the matron said. ‘T’ve a good 
long waiting-list on my books of voluntary helpers to 
choose from.” She paused. don’t mean that it will be 
easy to replace you. Miss Lampton — I wish all my work- 
ers gave me as little trouble as you have done.” 

‘‘Oh, but it’s been such ordinary work! Anyone could 
have done it as well.” 

“I’ve not been a hospital nurse for twenty years. Miss 
Lampton, for nothing. You can comfort yourself with the 
fact that a good worker always makes herself felt in what- 
ever capacity she is in. No sentiment or romance finds its 
way into an area-pantry, though there’s plenty of it in the 
wards.” She smiled. “But in spite of that, your romance 
seems to have progressed. I wish you every happiness and 
the best of luck.” 

Luck nowadays, Margaret knew, meant but one thing — 
the life of her husband. “Thank you,” she said. “I’ve 
loved being of use. I’ve really been grateful for the work 
— ^it’s been what I needed.” 

“I think I can get a V.A.D. to take your place to-mor- 
row morning — you will want all your time. If you will 
look in at your usual hour, you will hear if we have got one. 
But take my advice. Miss Lampton,” the matron said, as 
she turned to leave the astonished Margaret, “if you are 
going to nurse, go in for a thorough hospital training. 
You’d make a good nurse . . .” she paused, “ . . . that is 
to say, if you are free to do it when your husband is at the 
Front. Anyhow, think it over. It seems to me a pity that 
you should be content to remain a V.A.D. when you may 
be wanted for much more serious work later on.” 

When she had said good-bye, Margaret fled to the tele- 
phone. She had so much to do and arrange that she had 
to go from one thing to another as fast as she could. She 
rang up the rooms in Clarges Street where she knew that 
Hadassah Ireton was going to stay. She ought to have ar- 
rived that afternoon. When at last she got on to the right 


464 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


number, she was answered by the husband of the landlady, 
an ex-butler, and an admirable maitre de cuisine. 

‘‘Has Mrs. Ireton arrived yet.^” Margaret asked. 

“Yes, she arrived at five o’clock. Who shall I say is 
speaking.?” 

“Ask her if she can speak to Miss Lampton, please, for a 
few minutes. Will you tell her that it is very urgent.?” 

The next minute Margaret heard Hadassah’s voice. 

“Hallo! Miss Lampton, is that you.?” 

“Yes,” Margaret said. “But, please, not Miss Lamp- 
ton I” 

“Well, Margaret — I always think of you as Margaret. 
How nice lof you to ring me up and welcome me to Lon- 
don !” 

“Hadassah,” Margaret said breathlessly; her heart was 
beating with her news ; she spoke rather loudly, “I rang you 
up to tell you that I’m going to be married the day after 
to-morrow 1” 

Hadassah heard Margaret sigh even through the tele- 
phone. It was a sigh of pent-up emotion, an expression of 
relief. 

Margaret waited. She knew that she had taken Hadas- 
sah so completely by surprise that she had no answer ready. 

“Margaret!” she said at last, in amazement, “who to.?” 

Margaret detected, or fancied she did, a little coldness in 
her question. There was certainly not the pleased ring of 
congratulation which she had expected in her words. 

“Why, to Michael Amory, of course ! Who else could it 
be.?” Margaret’s happy laugh crackled in Hadassah’s 
ears. 

“Oh, my dear, I’m so glad ! What a wonderful surprise ! 
Is he in London.? When did he turn up.?” 

“He has been to the Front — as a Tommy, but he’s got his 
commission in the same regiment. I only met him to-day — 
he’s just got back. I feel too bewildered to think; I 
scarcely know what I am saying.” 

“Is this the first time that you’ve seen him since you 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 465 

parted in Egypt Hadassah’s voice expressed both amuse- 
ment and eager curiosity. 

‘^Yes, to speak to. We met in the train. Some months 
ago I saw him at a railway-station in the North. He was 
passing through, and I was there, but we had no opportun- 
ity of speaking to each other.’’ In the same breathless 
voice she said, ‘‘Freddy would approve. I know what you 
are thinking, but it’s all right — ^he’s as keen as Freddy 
about the war, and there never was anything wrong.” 

“I’m so awfully glad. You know I never doubted him.” 

' “He arrived in England the day before war was de- 
clared by us. He tried to find me, but he couldn’t, and so 
he just gave himself up to the war. He lost himself in it 
— you know his way! He thought that Freddy and I 
would approve. He was always worthy of me, Hadassah, 
but now I’m so proud of him. He would have joined up 
in any case, but he thought that in doing his bit he would 
atone for his weakness about Millicent. It was only his old 
method of letting things slide — ^he couldn’t get rid of her, 
but he was absolutely loyal to me.” 

“I understand,” Hadassah said. “But I admit that it 
was difficult for Freddy to look at it in that light.” 

“It’s so hard to explain over the ’phone,” Margaret said. 
“And indeed, it isn’t what he has told me so much — ^it’s just 
what he makes me feel.” 

“I know, dear. I feel it’s all right — I always felt it 
was.” 

“He has been absolutely true, Hadassah. Freddy must 
know that now. And you know, I can afford to marry.” 
Her voice lost its buoyancy. 

“Yes, I know, dear. I saw your brother’s will.” 

“And you approve, Hadassah It seems a shame not to 
grasp this little bit of happiness.” She paused, for above 
her practical words came the assurance of Michael’s safety; 
the words of the message almost came to her lips. 

“I quite approve. In these awful days, even a fortnight 
of happiness is a wonderful thing. Use your own judg- 

30 


466 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


ment, Margaret — it’s been unerring so far. Take this joy 
right to your heart.” 

‘‘Will you and your husband witness our marriage.? I 
want to telegraph to Aunt Anna — may I say that I am be- 
ing married from your house.? We won’t bother you — is it 
awful cheek asking you.?” 

“Why, my dear, of course you can come here to-mor- 
row, as early as ever you like, and we’ll go into all the de- 
tails, and fix up everything quite nicely. With telephones 
and money and London at our backs, you will be astonished 
at what a nice little dejeuner we shall have ready for you.” 
Hadassah laughed. “Money has its uses, my dear, in spite 
of all your Mike’s oblivion of the fact.” 

“Oh, you are too kind! Won’t it be nice — Si little de~ 
jewner a quatre in your rooms.? Your husband is with 
you? I forgot to ask.” 

“Yes, he’s here. He’ll stand by your Michael. Now, all 
you’ve got to do is to look after your own concerns — get 
your things together and send them here. I’ll have them 
packed for you and do all the rest.” 

“You angel!” Margaret said. “Oh, don’t cut us off!” 
she cried to the girl at the exchange, for a buzzing sound 
filled her ears. “Are you there? Can you hear? I won’t 
take much on my honeymoon,” she said, but her words did 
not reach Hadassah; no answer came back to her. They 
had been cut off. She quickly put the receiver back on its 
hook and hurried off to do the next ihing which suggested 
itself as being the most important — ^writing a short list of 
the things which she would have to buy the next day, and 
sending a telegram to her Aunt Anna. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


467 


CHAPTER III 

The next day, when Margaret met Michael in the garden 
square, she was not in her V.A.D.’s uniform. She told him 
that she was now her own mistress, so much so that she had 
that morning almost completed the purchase of her trous- 
seau, and that she w^as free to stay out as long as she liked. 

‘^But I want you,” she said, ^Ho return with me now to 
Clarges Street, to the Iretons. They are in town, and Ha- 
dassah says we can be married from their rooms to-morrow.” 

^‘They are the kindest people in the world,” he said. 
felt sure you were making friends with Hadassah while I 
was in the desert. I often comforted myself with the fact 
that she would understand the whole situation and help 
you.” 

‘^She’s a brick!” Margaret said. ‘^She has been your 
ardent champion all the time.” 

They signalled to a taxi-cab to drive them to Clarges 
Street. It was necessary to do everything as quickly as 
they could ; there was no time for leisurely walking or dis- 
cussion. 

Suddenly Margaret said, ^Xook ! Quick, Mike, there I I 
saw that black figure again. She was sitting in the gardens 
when I arrived. She never used to be here — I feel con- 
vinced that she is following us. I believe one of these taxis 
is waiting for her.” Her eyes indicated two taxis, which 
were waiting outside the gardens. 

‘‘Why do you think so.?” Michael said. “What can any 
human being want with us.? Why should our movements 
be interesting to any one but our two selves.?” He laughed. 
“By Jove, they are interesting to us, though, aren’t they.?” 
His eyes spoke of the morrow. 

Margaret laughed, too. Michael’s high spirits allowed 
her no time for reflection. He was carrying her off her feet 


468 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


in his old magnetic way. If he had only beckoned, she would 
have followed him to the ends of the earth; wings would 
have carried her, the air would have borne her. The dull 
realities of her life in London had vanished as if they had 
never been. The black figure, which had stepped into a 
cab and followed them, was forgotten. 

For something like half an hour Michael sat talking with 
Hadassah and Margaret. He had so much to tell them that 
he succeeded in telling them nothing connectedly or com- 
pletely. He began a hundred different things and left most 
of them halfway through, to plunge headlong into another 
and entirely different subject. The things he wanted to 
say were tumbling over each other in his mind. The be- 
wildering idea that he was going to be married the next day 
sent all his thoughts reeling. 

Margaret was not the sort of girl to worry over a lot of 
superficial clothes for a ten days’ honeymoon. What she 
needed she had got together in a couple of hours at Har- 
rod’s and one or two good shops in the West End. 

They had made up their minds to spend their brief period 
of married life together at Glastonbury. It was not too far 
from London and Michael had once stayed in the historical 
old inn in that quiet city of Arthurian romance. In 
Egypt he had inspired Margaret with a desire to see Glas- 
tonbury in the spring time, when the may thorns were in 
bloom and the luscious meadows gay with flowers. 

Like all soldiers, Michael was very silent upon the sub- 
ject of his own personal experiences at the Front, although 
at intervals he would suddenly burst out with some dramatic 
incident in which he had taken part. 

When Hadassah congratulated him on being offered a 
commission, he laughingly said, ‘‘Oh, I must accept it. It 
isn’t fair to shirk it, though I’d rather remain as I am.” 

Margaret’s heart stood still. She knew what he meant; 
she was not ignorant of the appalling death-rate of officers. 

“You mean,” Hadassah said, “that 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


469 


She got no further, for Michael interrupted her. 
mean that if I’m capable of leading men I ought to do it, 
but I dread the responsibility. That’s why I never tried 
for a commission — I didn’t feel confident. But as the 
deaths amongst the officers are much greater than among 
the men, I can’t remain a Tommy, can I.'^” He pulled his 
notebook out of his pocket. ^^Read that,” he said. ^‘That’s 
the sort of thing that proves whether a man can lead or 
not.” 

Margaret and Hadassah read the newspaper cutting. 
It had been quoted from the Petit Journal. 

^‘The British High Command relies more and more on the 
value of the individual soldier, and in this we see one of the 
main factors which will mean German defeat. Take the 
case of the heroism of a sergeant who, seeing his officer seri- 
ously wounded, himself assumed command of his company 
and led them victoriously to the third line. There he fell in 
his turn, but one of the men immediately took his place and 
completed the conquest of the objective. It is thanks to 
such acts that . • . has been seized, crossed and left be- 
hind.” 

When Hadassah and Margaret looked up, they met Mi- 
chael’s eyes. They were looking into the things beyond, 
things very far from Clarges Street. 

‘‘That was my sergeant,” he said, “the finest fellow that 
ever wore shoe-leather !” 

“And the Tommy,” Hadassah said, “has he been pro- 
moted ?” 

Michael’s eyes dropped ; his tanned skin flushed slightly. 

“Of course he’ll have to take a commission if it’s offered 
to him. He can’t very well refuse. He has proved his 
ability to lead, poor chap ! I expect he’d rather remain as 
he was. I know I would — it’s a terrible responsibility, in- 
spiring your men as well as teaching them, but one can’t 
shelter oneself while others face greater risks.” 

Hadassah’s quick brain read the truth, while Margaret 
merely lost herself in visualizing the dangers which Michael 


470 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


would so soon have to face. The twelve days would be gone 
so soon that they were scarcely worth counting. 

From the war their sketchy talk returned again to Mi- 
chael’s experiences in the desert. He told them briefly about 
the saint, omitting the nature of his illness. He spoke so 
naturally and unguardedly about Millicent, and of his an- 
noyance at her appearance and at her persistence in re- 
maining, that if there had been any lingering doubt in 
Hadassah’s mind upon the subject of his absolute loyalty to 
Margaret, it was completely dispersed. 

When he was hurriedly telling them about the meeting of 
the saint and all about his knowledge of the hidden treas- 
ure, and how completely it tallied with the African’s proph- 
ecies, he produced a tiny parcel from his pocket-book. 
He handed it to Margaret, who felt as if she had been lis- 
tening to the last chapter of a long story from The Ara- 
bian Nights. 

The little packet was made up of many folds of tissue- 
paper. With nervous fingers Margaret unwrapped it. 

When the last piece was discarded and she saw that uncut 
j ewel lying against the palm of her hand, she gave a cry of 
delight mixed with apprehension. Its beauty was unique, 
its colour was indescribable as the crimson of an after- 
glow in the Valley. 

She looked almost pitifully at Michael. She wished that 
the world was a little less strange ; some of the humdrum of 
her pantry-maid’s existence would be almost welcome. 

‘^The saint carried it in his ear,” he said. ^^He took it 
from Akhnaton’s treasure.” 

‘‘Have you had it with you at the Front all this time?” 
Hadassah said. Margaret’s emotion touched her. 

“Yes. But now it is for you, Meg. I will have it made 
into anything you like, so that you can always wear it. It 
will be my wedding-present, a jewel of Akhnaton.” 

“No, no!” Margaret said quickly. “You must take it, 
it belongs to you. You must always carry it about with 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 471 

you, Mike — it is your talisman.” She stopped, for Mi- 
chael had closed her fingers over the stone. 

^‘But I want you to have it,” he said. ^‘Let it be my 
wedding-gift — there is no time for the buying of presents.” 

“No,” Margaret s’aid. “Don’t urge me, Mike. I shan’t 
like it. Hadassah, don’t you agree with me.^ — ^he must 
never part with it!” She smiled. “I should be terribly 
afraid if you did, I should think your luck had deserted 
you. Dearest, do take it — I believe Akhnaton meant you 
to keep it.” 

While she spoke she was longing to tell him of the hand 
which had written, of her message. The words almost passed 
her lips, but again she refrained, she obeyed her super- 
senses. She was convinced that Michael, when his blood 
was up, ran terrible risks, that he was reckless to the verge 
of folly. She had heard a letter read in the hospital which 
had been written to a mother about her son. His Colonel 
had said, “There are some men who will storm hell, there 
are others who will follow, and there are some who will lag 
behind. Your son belongs to the first of the three. What 
he needs to learn is caution and the value in this war of of- 
ficers as able as himself.” Margaret knew that Michael’s 
rash nature needed no encouragement. 

Hadassah championed Margaret. “I think you should 
keep it,” she said to Michael, “and give it to Margaret after 
the war.” 

They all laughed, not unmirthfully, and yet not happily. 
“After the war!” they echoed in one voice. “Oh, that 
wonderful ‘after’ !” 

“That promised land,” Michael said. “Never mind — it’s 
coming. The labour and travail of the war will bring 
forth Liberty. The pains of childbirth are soon forgotten 
— ^mothers know how soon, when the infant is at their 
breast.” 

Hadassah and Margaret looked at one another. Their 
eyes said many things; Margaret’s were full of pride be- 
cause Hadassah was hearing from his own lips that Mi- 


472 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


chael was as whole-heartedly in the war as even Freddy 
could have desired. 

She was still fingering and gazing at the wonderful 
stone. It seemed scarcely more strange to her that it had 
actually once belonged to the first king who had abhorred 
war, had once formed a part of his great royal treasury, 
than the fact that it had played its part in the mystical 
drama of her life in Egypt. As Michael talked, she ques- 
tioned herself dreamily. Which was real — ^her humdrum 
pantry-maid existence in London, with her dreary walks 
through darkened streets, with now and then a Zeppelin 
scare to make her lonely bedroom seem more lonely.^ Or 
her life in the Valley, surrounded by the unearthly light 
of the Theban hills, her life of intellectual excitement and 
strange intimacy with things and people which the world 
had forgotten for thousands of years? 

Michael felt her abstraction. He put his hand on the top 
of hers, which held the jewel, and pressed it. 

‘‘Come back,” he said, laughing. “We’re in Clarges 
Street, and we’re going to be married to-morrow.” 

Meg looked up with startled eyes. “Are we?” she said. 

“My dear, practical mystic, we are.” He caught her 
found the waist and looked at Hadassah as he spoke. 
“You’ll get her ready, won’t you?” 

She laughed. “Well, if you really mean it, I think we 
must all be up and doing.” 

“If !” Michael cried. “With this in my pocket, I should 
rather think I do mean it !” He brandished the special 
license in the air. “Do you know what this means, Meg? 
It’s your death-warrant. Are you resigned? Have you 
anything to confess? You’ve not been married to anyone 
else while I was away?” 

Margaret shook her head. He had brought laughter 
back to her eyes. Just at that moment the ex-butler en- 
tered the room. As they all turned to look at him, he said : 

“A person has called to see Miss Lampton.” 

“Who is it?” Margaret said. Her thoughts flew to her 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


473 


dressmaker, who was hurriedly making a light frock, 
bought ready-made, the proper length for her; in all other 
respects it fitted her. 

don’t know, miss. She has a box in her arms.” 

^^Oh, I’ll go,” Margaret said. ‘T won’t be long.” 

‘^Then, while you’re gone. I’ll make use of my time,” 
Michael said as he rose to his feet. ‘T’ll be back in ten 
minutes.” He looked into Margaret’s eyes. ‘‘Don’t waste 
any time on dressmakers, Meg! Wear any old things, — 
you always look delightful.” 

“Catch me wasting time !” Margaret said. Her eyes as- 
sured him of her words. “Come upstairs for me in ten 
minutes — I’ll be ready.” 

A minute or two later Margaret returned to the sitting- 
room. Michael had left it. She was glad. 

“Hadassah,” she said, “listen. The most extraordinary 
thing has happened. Millicent Mervill is up in the draw- 
ing-room.” Margaret was trembling with anger and nerv- 
ousness, 

“What.?^ That woman here? How has she found you, 
how dare she come to see you?” Hadassah’s voice was in- 
dignant, furious ; her eyes flashed. 

Margaret hurriedly explained to her how for the last two 
days she had felt that someone was following her, a dark 
figure, indistinctly dressed in black. 

“She watched me in the square this morning. With her 
old cunning, she managed to get in by bringing some cor- 
set-boxes with her. Smith thought she had come to try 
something on. Isn’t it like her?” 

“Have you seen her?” 

“No, not yet. She gave this note to Smith to give to 
me; he thought it was just a list of the things she had 
brought. I knew her handwriting the moment I saw it. 
Please read it.” 

Hadassah read the letter. It was very short. 


474 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


“Dear Miss Lampton, 

“If you will let me see you, I will tell you something 
which you ought to know. Please don’t refuse. What I 
know may greatly help Mr. Amory. 

“I only heard the other day that he never discovered the 
treasure. It is about that I want to see you. 

“Yours, 

“Mileicent Mervile.” 

When Hadassah had finished reading the note, she raised 
her eyes; they met Margaret’s. 

“You had better see her.” Hadassah spoke quickly. 

“Yes, I must, I suppose. I only wanted to know if you 
would mind — it is your house. I think it’s such imperti- 
nence.” 

“Of course not. But what can she have to tell you.^” 

“I don’t know, but whatever it is, I do wish she hadn’t 
come.” Margaret sighed. “We were all so happy, and she 
is associated with everything that is hateful.” 

“Would you like me to come with you.^” 

“No, no.” Margaret shook her head. “I am always best 
alone, but I dread the interview.” 

She paused for a moment or two before leaving the room. 
She was building up her courage, trying to subdue her 
nervousness. As she went out, Hadassah’s eyes followed 
her. 

“Poor girl !” she said to herself. “She has gone through 
so much. I thought she was in for a little time of peace 
and happiness. Poor Margaret!” She sighed. “And 
what is there still before her.'^” Hadassah’s eyes looked 
into the future, “with this cruel, cruel war only beginning, 
for we are really just getting into it!” 

She had been preparing to write some letters relating to 
Margaret’s affairs, but for a moment or two she did not 
take up her pen. A little of the truth of what did actually 
happen to Michael on the battlefields of Flanders swam be- 
fore her eyes; it was just the things which were happen- 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


475 


ing and have happened to England’s brave boys and men 
during these three wonderful years. The war was still in 
its infancy, but even then the vices of Germany were as 
old as her race and as terrible. 

She pictured the truth — Michael’s charmed life, his reck- 
less courage, his magnetic power over his men. She fore- 
saw it all. His temperament foretold it, his absolute belief 
in the triumph of righteousness. 

While Hadassah was thinking these things, and thank- 
ing God in her heart that her husband, by reason of his 
special qualifications, had at once been placed in a post of 
great responsibility and one far removed from the danger- 
zone, Margaret had reached the drawing-room. She 
paused for a moment outside the door; she needed all her 
self-control. 

As she entered the room, and before she had closed the 
door behind her, a slight figure, so shapelessly enveloped in 
black and closely-veiled that she could not distinguish any 
individuality, turned from the window, which opened into 
a small glass recess full of ferns and flowers. 

Margaret did not hold out her hand ; she could not. Nor 
did Millicent Mervill; she stood before Margaret, her head 
bent and her hands clasped in front of her, a slight bundle 
of drooping black, as mysterious as any veiled Egyptian 
woman. 

“You have something to tell me.?” Margaret said. In 
spite of her anger, the humility of the fragile figure 
brought a suggestion of pity into her voice. The radiant 
beauty whom she had steeled her nerves to meet had given 
place to this meek, formless penitent. “Please put up your 
veil — I can’t see you.” She knew that she could not trust 
the woman’s words ; she wished to watch her eyes while she 
spoke. 

“I am wearing it,” Millicent said, “because I can’t bear 
you to look at me, to see how changed I am. Please let 
me keep it down, while I tell you aU I know about Mr. 
Amory and the treasure.” 


476 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


‘What has happened?” Margaret said. Millicent’s voice 
was agonized. 

“I had smallpox in Alexandria — it has left me hideous. 
Soon after I last saw you I sickened with it. I was very, 
very ill.” 

“Smallpox!” There was genuine sympathy in Mar- 
garet’s voice. “Are you really disfigured? How dreadful 
that nowadays you should be!” 

“Yes,” Millicent said, lifelessly. “I have nothing left 
to live for now. My looks are gone. I was very igno- 
rantly nursed; they were kind people, but hopelessly igno- 
rant.” 

“Perhaps your looks will come back — give yourself 
time.” Even as Margaret spoke, she wondered how she 
found it possible to talk to the woman in the way she was 
doing. Only five minutes ago she had hated her, hated 
her so intensely that she had had to exercise great control 
over her passions so that she should not lose her temper in 
her presence. Now she felt a sincere pity for her, the poor 
creature. Margaret’s subconscious womanhood knew the 
reason. It was because she could afford to be sorry for her, 
now that all rivalry between them was dead. 

“I didn’t come to tell you about myself,” Millicent said. 
“It is nothing to you — ^you must be glad.” She wrung her 
hands more tightly. “You are saying in your heart at 
this moment that I deserve it. So I do. I see things 
clearly now — I do deserve it. I brought it all on myself, 
everything. But I have suffered, you don’t know how I 
have suffered.” 

“Sit down,” Margaret said quietly, “and tell me all 
about it.” 

“No, no. You are only speaking like this because you 
feel you ought to, because I am now a thing to pity. You 
really hate me. I came to tell you that I never reached the 
hills, I never saw the hidden treasure, I never tried to find 
it.” She paused. “And that your lover was never mine. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 477 

He never desired any woman but you — ^he scorned me, 
ignored my advances.” 

“I know that,” Margaret said hotly. A fire had kindled 
her calm eyes ; it quickened her spirit. 

‘‘But it is none the less my duty to tell you. Your lover 
is too fine, too loyal — ^he won’t stoop to tell you how I 
tempted him. He wouldn’t blacken even my name. He has 
too much respect for womanhood.” 

“Then why tell me.?^” Margaret said. “I don’t want to 
hear it. All that is past. We are going to be married to- 
morrow — Michael is home from the Front. We are per- 
fectly happy — don’t recall it all.” 

A cry rang through the room. Its tone of envy and 
passion convinced Margaret that even in the worst human 
beings there is the divine spark. It actually hurt her that 
her own joy should mean this agony to another woman. 

“You are going to be married,” Millicent said, “to the 
finest lover and the truest gentleman I have ever known, or 
ever shall know, the finest in the world, I think.” 

“Yes,” Margaret said. “He is all that, and more — at 
least, to me.” 

“Much more,” Millicent said, “much more. And will you 
tell him that I never reached the hills, that I am not guilty 
of that one meanness ?” 

“Then who did.^” Margaret said quickly. 

“Oh, then you thought I did? You thought I robbed 
him of his discovery? Does he think so, too.?^” Her voice 
shook. Her curious sense of honour scorned the idea. 

“No, no,” Margaret said. Her love of truth made her 
speak frankly. “He wouldn’t believe it. He is still con- 
vinced that you never went to the hills, that you are in- 
nocent.” 

“But you believed it?” 

“Yes,” Margaret’s voice was stern. “Yes, I believed it 
for a time.” 

“I have nothing worth lying for now,” Millicent said 
bitterly; “so what I tell you is perfectly true. I never 


478 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


reached the hills ; I was too great a coward. I fled away in 
the night, as fast as I could, back to civilization.’’ 

‘‘Then who anticipated Michael’s discovery.^ It’s absurd 
to assume that someone who knew nothing of his theory 
should have discovered it at the very same time, almost. Do 
you expect me to believe that.'^” 

“My dragoman told me that one of my men absconded. 
He left me on the same night as I left Michael’s camp. He 
must have discovered it; he must have heard the saint 
telling Michael all about it.” She paused. “You know 
the whole story, don’t you.^ All about the saint, and how 
his illness turned out to be smallpox.^” She shuddered at 
the very mention of the saint. 

“No,” Margaret said. “I haven’t heard about the small- 
pox. Was that how you got it.'^” 

“Indirectly, yes, but it was my own fault. When I 
heard that he had got it, I stole away in the night, I left 
Michael to face it alone.” She paused. 

Margaret held her tongue. There was something so 
horrible about smallpox that, in spite of the woman’s cow- 
ardly behaviour, she felt some sympathy for her. 

“He had begged me to go before the saint turned up. I 
wouldn’t. When the saint appeared he forgot almost 
everything else, and so for one whole day I remained con- 
fident in the belief that he had taken my presence for 
granted. And then,” she shuddered, “he came to tell me 
that the holy man had smallpox.” 

“And you forgot your love.?” Margaret said. 

“It was swallowed up in fear, in anger. I was so furious 
at Michael’s rash generosity. I had warned him that the 
man might be suffering from some contagious malady, but 
I never dreamed of smallpox.” 

“It was horrible!” Margaret said. “And Michael has 
never said a word about it.” 

“His charity is divine,” Millicent said. “It is Christ-like, 
if you like.” 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 479 

is true charity, for it is love, love for everything 
which God has created.’’ 

‘‘He is so happy that he can afford to love almost every- 
thing and everyone.” 

“He is happy because he loves them.” 

“I don’t believe he has ever heard of hell,” Millicent said. 
“His religion’s all heaven and beauty and love.” 

“Hell !” exclaimed Margaret. “But surely,” she paused, 
“surely we’re not primitives, we don’t need the fear of such 
impossible cruelties to keep us from doing wrong.? His 
great saint, or reformer, Akhnaton, had no hell in his re- 
ligion, and he lived, as you know, centuries before David. 
Even Akhnaton realized that human beings create their own 
hells. The other hell, of fire and brimstone, which terror- 
ized the ignorant people into obedience and order, belongs 
to the same category as the crocodile god and the wicked 
cat-goddess Pasht, of Egypt. It was necessary in its day.” 

“You and Michael live on such a high plane!” 

“Oh no, we don’t. You know Michael is very human — 
that is why he is so understanding, so forgiving.” 

“He will never forgive me — ^that would be expecting too 
much. But I had to come and tell you all that I know about 
his treasure. I have only just heard — I saw it in the 
Egyptian monthly Archaeological Report — ^that Michael 
never had the glory of discovering the Akhnaton chambers 
in the hills.” 

“You didn’t know that when I saw you in Cairo.?” 

“No, I never dreamed of it. If you had only told me 
that he hadn’t, I should have explained, I should have told 
you about the man who absconded.” 

Margaret looked at her searchingly, but she could learn 
nothing more than the voice told her, for Millicent’s veil 
was still covering her disfigured face. 

“I never wished to rob him of the honour of the discov- 
ery. If I had known when I saw you, I should have cleared 
my name, at least, of that contemptible deed.” 

Margaret blushed. “I couldn’t tell you,” she said. “I 


480 


THERE WAS A KING IN EG YET 


was too unhappy, lOo angry. I didn’t want you to know of 
our disappointment. I pretended that I had heard from 
Michael.” 

‘‘You led me to suppose that he had discovered it.” 

“I know,” Margaret said. “I didn’t wish to add to your 
satisfaction by telling you of his disappointment. I was 
convinced that you knew, and that you had slipped off to 
the hills.” She paused. “We were bluffing each other.” 

“I was incubating smallpox. I was wearing a blouse and 
skirt which had been packed with the clothes I wore in the 
desert. Probably it had come in touch with some infected 
thing.” 

“Were you very bad.^^” Margaret said. “Where have 
you been all this time.?^” 

Millicent shivered. “I was just going to sail for Eng- 
land, but I was too ill when I reached Alexandria to go on 
board the boat — I had to stay behind. I have been hiding 
myself from the world ever since. Yes, I was dreadfully 
ill, and now. . . .” Her voice broke. “You don’t know 
what I feel when I look at myself — my own face makes me 
sick.” 

“I am so sorry,” Margaret said. “You were so beautiful, 
such a wonderful colour!” 

“How kind of you to say so 1” Millicent’s voice left no 
doubt of her feeling of shame, although Margaret’s nobil- 
ity was beyond her understanding; it humbled her. “I 
came to you because I wanted to do what I can to undo 
what I have done. If Michael had known that my servant 
anticipated his discovery, it might have given him a clue 
as to where the treasure has gone. You do believe now 
that I never saw the jewels.?^ I never dreamed of robbing 
him!” She paused. “In my poor way I loved him. I 
couldn’t have done that — not that.” 

“And yet you were so horribly cruel ! You knew a great 
deal about men. Michael is only human, and he is so ready 
to believe the best of everyone.” 

“Yes, I know. But I suppose I was born bad, born with 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


481 


feelings you don’t understand. Michael did his best to help 
me; he tried to awaken something higher in me. I sup- 
pose you won’t believe it, but he has — he has helped me; 
I am not quite what I was. While I was ill, when I thought 
I was dying, all that he had ever said to me came back 
to me with a new meaning. I determined that if I got well 
I would tell you ever3rthing — how wonderful his love for 
you is, how strong he can be — ^and it is not the strength 
of a man who does not feel.” 

^‘Oh, I know it,” Margaret said. Her voice was resent- 
ful. 

^‘But please let me tell you, even if you do know it. It is 
only right to Michael — I must exonerate him, even if 3’^ou 
resent hearing me speak of his love for you. Let me make 
a clean breast of it, show you how ignorant he was of my 
plans for meeting him. He never was more surprised in 
his life.” 

didn’t mean to resent it, but there are some things we 
never need telling, things which are better left unsaid. Mi- 
chael needs no telling that you never stole the jewels, for 
instance, that you never tried to reach the hills.” 

^^Stole the jewels ! No, I never stole them. You thought 
that.^” Horror was in Millicent’s voice. ‘Wou thought I 
stole them for my personal use.? To wear them.?” 

‘Tt would not have been so cruel as to steal my lover, 
would it.?” 

‘Tt would have been less difficult.” 

^‘You tried — oh, how you tried to steal him ! How could 
you.?” A revulsion of feeling hardened Margaret. Her 
eyes showed it. She was visualizing Millicent in all her 
former beauty. Even without beauty, she knew how strong- 
ly her vitality would appeal to men. Despondent, in her 
drooping black shawls, Millicent was keenly alive still. 
Margaret had always felt her vitality ; she knew that men 
felt it. It stirred them to conquest; it invited contest. 

Millicent answered her truthfully. ‘‘Because I am bad, 
not good, and I loved him with the only kind of love I know. 

31 


482 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


It swept aside all scruples. You can’t judge — try to be- 
lieve that — ^you can’t begin to judge. I lived for conquest 
and men’s admiration, and now I have lost both.” 

Margaret felt humbled to the dust. Her judgment had 
been so crude, so narrow. She realized that the woman be- 
fore her left her far behind in the matter of vitality, pas- 
sion and self-criticism. Her energy and vitality demanded 
an outlet, an object. 

‘^Don’t feel like that,” she said gently. ‘Wour looks will 
come back. Do let me see your face. It is early days yet 
— the marks will disappear, grow fainter. It is only one 
year — give it time, forget all about it in hard work, and 
while you are working. Nature will be working too.” 

‘‘No, no!” Millicent cried. “Never! I am going to fly 
from my friends — I am going to hide myself.” 

Margaret had attempted to raise her thick veil, but Milli- 
cent refused to let her. Instead, she threw another thick- 
ness of it over her face. Her pride could not stand even 
Margaret’s pity and comforting words. 

“I am humbled enough as it is,” she said. “Don’t do 
that.” 

“I didn’t want to humble you,” Margaret said. “I only 
thought, and I do still think, that you are exaggerating 
the change in your appearance. One sees every little thing 
about oneself so clearly. I know how a wee spot seems like 
a Vesuvius when it is. on one’s nose. With smallpox the 
marks do get more and more invisible.” 

“No, my looks will never come back,” Millicent said mis- 
erably. “And for a woman like me, when her looks are 
gone, what is there left.^” 

“Work,” Margaret said. “The war will make you for- 
get all about personal things — it will, really. Life is differ- 
ent now. If you will only take up some war-work — and I 
know you will, for every able-bodied woman in England is 
working at something; every superfluous woman has be- 
come a thing of value — life will be completely changed. 
There is only one idea, one aim for us — to win the war. 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 483 


You must do your bit. It is just our ^bit’ that keeps us 
sane, for without it we should have time to think. We 
women must not think, we must work.” 

^^But what can I do.?” 

“Almost anything,” Margaret said. “You know you 
could — you are so clever.” 

“Don’t flatter, please,” Millicent said. “How can you 
be so forgiving.?” 

“I suppose because I’m so happy. As soon as ever you 
can,” Margaret said, “take up some work which necessi- 
tates using all your brain, all your energy. You will be- 
come so interested in what you are doing that you will for- 
get your troubles. I had no time to grieve over mine when 
I was working in the hospital. At night I was so tired out 
that I went to sleep as soon as my head was on the pillow. 
The atmosphere of work, the awfulness of this war, makes 
personal things very trivial — one grows ashamed of them.” 

“You are trying to give me hope,” Millicent said. “It 
is so big and kind of you, but honestly, I only came here to 
tell you about your lover, not to talk about my hideous self. 
What does it matter what I do.? You were always a worker 
— I was not.” 

“Well, you have told me about Michael, and now I can 
at least try to help you. I have seen the effect of almost a 
year of the war on the idle women of England. It is won- 
derful ! And we used to be called superfluous !” Margaret 
laughed proudly. 

“You believe me.? You know that I am not lying.? that 
I never reached the hills.? that I never knew that Michael 
had not discovered the treasure.?” Millicent had gone back 
to the original object of her visit. What Margaret had 
advised seemed to her impossible. 

As she said the last words, the door opened and Michael 
entered the room. He had heard Millicent’s voice. His 
eyes were fixed on Margaret. The tableau created by his 
unexpected entrance was tense, painful. 

Millicent turned her head away and hid her face in her 


484 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


hands. Her first thought was that he must not see her face. 
She flung herself down on the sofa. 

Margaret became deadly pale, but remained motionless. 
Michael looked from her to Millicent with an expression of 
horrified surprise on his face. He had expected to see her 
in all her perfection of toilet and looks, her shining head, 
the ‘‘golden lady,” instead of which a bundle of crepe, a 
mere armful, something soft and black, lay face downwards 
on the sofa before him. 

“What are you doing here?” he said sternly. “Haven’t 
we seen the last of you yet?” 

Margaret put up her hands as if to ward off his words. 
Her own happiness had made her feel more pity than anger 
for the miserable woman, who for probably the first time in 
her life was trying to act honourably and courageously. 
The security of love made her wondrous kind. 

“What has she come for?” Michael demanded. But for 
his sunburn, his face would have been as white as Mar- 
garet’s own. The sight of Millicent’s cowering figure 
brought back to him, with the quickness of light, the even- 
ing in the desert when he had flung her from him in his 
agony of temptation. 

“She came to give us some information, Mike. Tell him, 
Millicent, why you have come.” 

Millicent took no notice of Margaret’s words. She was 
crouching on the sofa, her face still buried in her hands. 

“No, no,” she moaned, when Margaret again urged her 
to speak. “I only wanted to tell you. Ask him to go 
away — do, please, beg him to go. If he wants you I will 
disappear and never come back again. I have said all I 
have to say.” 

“I am going to stay here,” Michael said, “until I hear 
what you came to say. Was it necessary to come.^” He 
looked to Margaret for his answer. 

“It was better,” Margaret said. “She never reached the 
hills, she never saw the treasure.” 

Michael started. “Go on,” he said. “That is not all — 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


485 


she need not have come to tell us that. I never accused her ; 
I never believed it. I thought that after all she did do, she 
would have had shame enough to stay away.’’ 

Millicent’s body quivered. His words lashed her. 

‘‘One of her servants ran away — ^he left her the same 
night as she left your camp,” Margaret said. Again Mi- 
chael saw the black figure shiver as Margaret spoke of her 
cowardly act. The very mention of it brought to both their 
eyes a vivid picture of the surroundings which had wit- 
nessed their last meeting. Millicent knew that Michael 
was seeing it as clearly as though they had been standing 
together under the golden stars, the tents dotted about on 
the pale night sands. She could hear the sick man reciting 
suras from the Koran in sonorous tones. 

“And she thinks he found the treasure.?” Michael said 
the words absently, as though his mind was occupied with 
distant visions. 

“Yes — he was a likely character to do the deed.” 

“Does she know an3rthing about him — where he went to .?” 

“No, Mike, but I do.” Margaret spoke gently. “Milli- 
cent has been very ill. She only heard yesterday that the 
Government had anticipated your discovery. She came to 
try and help you. She is in trouble.” Margaret’s voice 
told Michael more than her words. 

“She scarcely deserves your pity,” he said. “Only her 
own heart knows how she has tricked us both . . . there are 
some things one cannot forgive . . . Millicent knows.” 

The black figure slipped from the couch to the floor. 
“Look, I will kneel at your Margaret’s feet,” she said in 
tones of abject shame. “Tell her everything. Tell her 
what a beast she has been kind to. She ought to know.” 
She raised her head. “I think I shall enjoy the agony — 
anything but this living death.” 

She pressed her hands on Margaret’s feet. “I am far 
worse than you knew! You are not made like me, you 
w^on’t even understand if he tells you the things I did.” 
j “I don’t wish to speak of it to Margaret,” Michael said. 


486 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


‘‘Get up. I have seen your penitence once too often to be- 
lieve in it now — get up.” 

“Oh,” Millicent moaned, “I know, I know! You think 
this is just another bit of the old Millicent. It isn’t — ^it is 
true.” 

“Get up,” Margaret said kindly. “I was only trying to 
be kind because . . . well, perhaps it is because I am so 
happy myself that I can afford to forgive you. Don’t 
kneel like that ... I hate to see you. Michael knows 
how little I deserve it ... I have hated you with all my 
heart and soul, I have longed for my revenge.” 

“My God !” Michael said quickly, “I hate to see the lit- 
tle coward near you! How dared you come.^ Get up!” 
he said again. “And clear out ! I thought we had finished 
with you for ever!” 

Millicent dragged herself to her feet. She stood before 
him, a slender, nun-like figure; one of the black shawls 
which enveloped her had fallen to the floor. 

“Go on, say all you feel — I deser^^e it, every word of it ! 
I left you to your fate when you were in danger, I fled 
from the camp with but one idea in my head — ^my own 
safety, my desire to get as far as I could from the infection 
of smallpox. I carried the hateful disease with me; I am 
so disfigured that you must never see. Never !” Her words 
ended in a low cry of self-pity. 

“My God !” Michael said. “Are you speaking the truth 
Did you get smallpox?” He knew that the blame was 
partly his. 

“Yes, but don’t look at me. I can’t bear it. Anything 
but that, oh not that!” Michael had stooped to raise her 
veil. 

His eyes met Margaret’s. “Poor soul !” he said. “Poor 
little soul!” 

“Yes, fate has punished me,” Millicent said. “You can 
do no more.” 

Michael groaned. “We have not talked of it all yet, 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 487 

Margaret,” he said miserably, ‘^the horror of the small- 
pox.” 

.‘^Millicent has told me about it, Michael.” She tried to 
smile. ‘Tt is a thing of the past. What good will talking 
do.f^ We are happy again.” 

Millicent turned to Michael. have told her a very 
little,” she said. ‘‘And now I have something which I must 
tell you. When I saw her in Cairo I told her that I had 
been with you, I told her that you would write to me, I 
inferred that you and I were lovers.” 

Michael bent his head. He was innocent of any deed of 
unfaithfulness, but what of his desires? What of the night 
when Margaret’s presence had saved him? He wondered 
if she was conscious of the part she had played in his re- 
nunciation. 

“And you still trusted me?” Michael’s words were so 
full of gratitude and wonder that Margaret’s veins were 
flooded with happiness. How greatly he had been tempted ! 

“I remembered my promise. More than once it seemed to 
me that I succeeded in being very near you.” 

Her eyes questioned him. He understood; his eyes an- 
swered her. 

“I told her that I had been with you,” Millicent said, 
“but not for how long. She never dreamed that my coming 
was quite unknown to you, that I was with you for so short 
a time, that you hated my presence in the camp. How well 
she knew you !” 

Margaret turned to Michael. “Yes, I knew him,” she 
said. “Thank God, I knew him ! We learnt to know each 
other in the Valley, and I think I realized the situation bet- 
ter than you thought I did.” 

“But I must tell you, I must show you even more than 
you dream of how true and loyal he has been.” 

“No, no, please don’t,” Margaret said. “Michael has 
told me all I want to know.” She was sorry for Michael’s 
embarrassment ; he writhed under the whole thing. 

Millicent paid no attention to her words. She repeated 


488 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


the story for Margaret’s benefit. Michael turned away im- 
patiently. He had meant to tell Margaret all the details 
of his life in the desert when they were married and alone 
together. 

‘‘As I told you,” Millicent said, “I met him in the desert. 
I had found out where he was going to. He was furiously 
angry ... he wanted me to go back. I stayed against 
his wishes. The saint turning up the same day as I did 
made him forget me. I often tried to win him from you 
. . . and I thought I was succeeding. The only reason he 
didn’t turn me out of the camp was because of my equip- 
ment and food — they were good for the holy man, who was 
ill. He was sickening with the smallpox, only we didn’t 
know it. Michael took him into his camp. I told you 
about that. We didn’t know what was the matter with him, 
but Michael behaved like an angel to the lunatic. When 
he discovered that he had smallpox, I implored him to leave 
him. When he wouldn’t I fled. That very night I left 
him alone, even though I had told him that I loved him — I 
had offered myself to him. I took all my luxuries with* me. 
I was mad . . . furiously angry. He had taken the sick 
man in against all my entreaties; he had scorned my love. 
The next morning Hassan told me that one of my men had 
deserted, left our camp at dawn.” 

“Stop, that’s enough!” Michael cried. “Stop it!” 
Every word had lashed his nerves and brought b^ick to his 
memory his own struggles, his own weakness. 

“I fled,” Millicent went on, not heeding his interruption. 

“I spent some weeks in Upper Egypt. I thought I had 
escaped the horrible disease. ... I thought Hassan had 
taken every precaution. He sent some of my boxes straight 
on to Cairo; I opened them the night I saw you. They 
ilfiust have carried the infection — ^that is how I got small- 
pox. It lay in wait for me.” She paused, breathless, and 
then went on excitedly: “I know nothing about the treas- 
ure. I am absolutely innocent in that one respect. I can 
tell you nothing more, nothing.” 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


489 


As Millicent ceased speaking, Michael took up her story. 

‘‘Margaret,” he said, “some days after she left us the 
saint died. When he was buried, we moved on. As he 
spoke, he visualized the desert burial. “We journeyed to 
the hills. On our way we passed through a subterranean 
village — a terrible place, of flies and filth! The Omdeh of 
the village, a fine old gentleman, told us of the growing 
unrest among the desert tribes — German work, of course; 
we are seeing the fruit of it now. I paid no heed to him; 
I felt too ill, too tired. I only cared about reaching the 
hills. When we did reach them, we found that a camp 
was already established. Information had been given to the 
Government.” He heaved a deep sigh. “The thing was 
out of my hands. I suppose the shock finished me for the 
time being, for when I left the excavation-camp I became 
ill, so ill that Abdul had to take me as quickly as he could 
to the Omdeh^s house near the subterranean village. I 
stayed there until late on in May.” He stopped abruptly. 

“The rest won’t bear speaking about. What made things 
so much worse, Meg, was thinking about what you would 
be suffering, what Freddy would be saying.” His eyes 
sought Margaret’s. “It is best to forget, it is wiser to 
think of to-morrow.” 

“Yes, let us forget all about it,” Margaret said. Mi- 
chael’s expression frightened her. As a soldier he had 
enough to bear without raking up what was past. 

“Abdul became as dear to me as a brother,” Michael said 
quietly. “His devotion was wonderful! We are not of the 
same faith” — he was speaking to himself — “but our God is 
the same God, our love for Him the same. Abdul knew 
that.” 

“And your illness.?^” Millicent said. “Was it smallpox.^” 

“No, no — none of my camp caught it. It was enteric 
fever. I suppose I was worn out, both mentally and physic- 
ally. The disappointment about the treasure was the last 
straw, it was so cruel. I am able to accept it now, it doesn’t 
hurt me any longer. The war has done that; the war is 


490 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


like concentrated time — it obliterates and wipes out, and 
even heals.” 

“But you discovered it, Michael ! You were the real dis- 
coverer. If it hadn’t been for you, and for your special 
knowledge, the man who stole it, who gave the information, 
would never have found it. And, above all, as Michael Ire- 
ton says, that is the main point of interest.” Margaret’s 
eyes glowed with pride. “And haven’t you heard the se- 
quel to that tragedy.^ — ^the finding of some ancient jewels 
which the thief must have dropped in the desert, not so 
very far from the hill-chambers?” 

* As Michael had not heard that the gems had been found, 
Margaret told him the story which Hadassah had written 
to her. 

“They prove, Mike, what after all is to us the most im- 
portant fact in the whole affair — that you were right, that 
all the information given you by the seer was correct.” 

Margaret did not include her vision of Akhnaton in Mil- 
licent’s presence; it was always a sacred subject between 
them. 

“That is what Abdul said, and I know it is true. But 
who can prove it? To the disbelieving no one can prove 
that there was any treasure, any gold or great wealth of 
jewels.” He looked into Margaret’s eyes. He said plain- 
ly, “Freddy died unconvinced on that point.” 

Margaret understood. She had so often wished that 
Freddy could have known all that had transpired since his 
death. 

“I will spend all my money and wits on finding the 
wretch,” Millicent said humbly. “I will hunt this treasure 
to earth. If there were jewels, they shall be found. I will 
never stop until I«have traced them, never ! That will give 
me some interest in life — ^if you will let me do it, that is to 
say.” 

“The jewels will all be cut by this time, the gold will be 
melted. No one will be able to recognize them.” 

“You can’t find the thief,” Margaret said. “He died of 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


491 


smallpox — Mr. Ireton heard that from the Government 
authorities. They set detectives on his track, and discov- 
ered his whereabouts, but he was unconscious. They think 
that he buried the treasure, that it is again lost to the 
world. It is still waiting for you, Mike.” 

“I know that there were many more jewels where the 
crimson and amethyst came from,” Michael said, ^Vhether 
they are ever found again or not.” He was thinking of the 
words of his old friend in el-Azhar. If he came out of the 
war alive, he might again hope to discover them. 

‘T can do something else,” Millicent spoke pleadingly. 
‘‘Say you will let me ! I am rich — my money is no good to 
me.” 

Michael looked at her for an explanation. His eyes were 
cold. 

“I can spend some of my money in paying the expenses 
of the digging, for excavating on the site. The war will 
put a stop to all excavating work in Egypt and the Holy 
Land so far as England is concerned, but if I give sufficient 
money, you can employ the best Egyptologists in America, 
so that the work can go on this autumn. You will not have 
to wait until the war is over before you find out all there 
is to be known on the subject.” 

“The papyri will prove a great deal,” Michael said; 
“they found papyri.” Millicent’s words scarcely pene- 
trated to his brain. He was obsessed with the idea that the 
Egyptologists suspected that the treasure was again buried. 
If it was, how exactly it all tallied with the African’s vision ! 

“I believe that there is very little excavating work to be 
done,” Margaret said. “I have had so little time with 
Hadassah that I have not even referred to the subject.” 
She smiled, surprised at the fact when it was brought be- 
fore her. “But in a letter she told me that the chambers 
were singularly perfect. They are cut in the virgin rock ; 
they are not extensive, but nothing had been destroyed. 
One of the chambers was evidently intended for a royal 
treasury.” 


492 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


^Tn Flanders,” Michael said, ^‘life is very real.” He 
turned to the window as he spoke; Margaret’s news had 
troubled him. ‘‘Germany has made all our lives horribly 
real. What you have told me seems to belong to another 
state of our existence.” His eyes were far away from 
either Margaret or Millicent ; they were with his comrades 
in the trenches. “When I was knee-deep in mud in the 
trenches I often thought that our hut-home in the silent 
Valley was a dream, a beautiful dream, one of those dreams 
we can never forget, however long we live, but only a 
dream.” 

He drew himself up. “We have been brought back to 
firm earth. Our apprenticeship on this side isn’t finished, 
Meg. We aren’t ready to fully understand the things be- 
yond. While we are on this earth, I believe it is wiser 
to rest content with the things that are here.” He smiled. 
“Perhaps Freddy is right — it is wiser to walk on our two 
feet.” ^ 

“Perhaps it is,” Margaret said wistfully. “But thank 
God I trusted to the progress of one person who occasionally 
walks on his head.” 

While Michael’s back was turned to the door, and Mar- 
garet was looking at him with eyes of sympathy, and with 
the knowledge in her heart that he was living over again 
scenes and actions in Flanders which left her far behind 
him, Millicent had slipped from the room. With her white 
corset-boxes in her arms she fled downstairs and silently 
opened the front door. As silently it shut behind her. 

For a moment she paused, before descending the steps. 
London was there in front of her, London with its luxuries 
and its sins, which not even the strength of Germany or the 
sacrifice of young lives could obliterate. The spring made 
no call to her; the sunshine mocked her because of her 
empty world. 

When Michael and Margaret discovered that she was 
gone, they stood for a little while locked in each other’s 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 493 

arms. As Margaret raised her head from Michael’s breast, 
he bent his head and kissed her lips. 

‘^Dearest,” he said, ^‘you and I can afford to forgive her, 
poor lonely little soul !” 

‘T can forgive anybody anything, Mike.” 

^‘Even the Kaiser, beloved woman 

Margaret shivered. ‘‘Don’t let’s think of him — not for 
eleven days, at least.” 

“We shall be able to be sorry for even him some day,” 
he said. His confident tones delighted her, for his mention 
of the war had brought the angel with the flaming sword 
into her Eden. 

“You really think so, Mike.^^ Your inner self feels it? 
Sometimes I almost despair — they are so strong, so clever.” 

“I do believe it,” he said. “You foolish woman, of course 
I believe it. The day may be a long way off, but it is com- 
ing, just the same. The triumph of light over darkness, 
Meg, the old, old fight — we shall see the resurrection of 
Osiris and the defeat of Set all over again. The sun of 
righteousness will stream over the world when the devil of 
militarism is crushed for ever.” 

He kissed her again rapturously. Their time together 
was so short; it left them little opportunity for lengthy 
talks on any subject. The way in which Michael broke 
off in the middle of his sentences to make love to her, and 
question her eagerly and impetuously, suggested the hosts 
that disturbed his mind. He wanted to tell her all about 
the old African’s idea of the meaning of the war, and 
about his visualizing of the treasure for the second time; 
but he wanted still more her lips and her own exquisite as- 
surances of her love for him, the eternal subject, which 
neither age nor war can affect. The one important fact 
which could not wait was that to-moiTOw she was to be his 
wife, and if he did not let her return to her preparations, 
(there was the possibility that some hitch might occur. So 
they went back to Hadassah and told her all that had[ hap- 
pened. 


494 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


For everyone concerned the rest of the day flew on wings. 
Each hour passed like a flash. Bed-time came, and Mar- 
garet scarcely seemed to have achieved half or quarter of 
the things she had meant to do. 

A telegram had arrived, in answer to hers, from the aunt 
with whom she had lived as a child and young girl. The 
bride-elect had felt just a little worried about her aunt; she 
had written her a letter which she would receive on her wed- 
ding morning. In it Margaret had told her all about her 
friendship with Michael while she was living with Freddy 
in Egypt, and of Freddy’s friendship with him, which was 
of a much longer duration. Also, she took pains to assure 
her aunt that, as far as pedigree was concerned, he had the 
blood of Irish kings in his veins. 


CHAPTER IV 

Their wedding-day was the sort of day which made Brown- 
ing, when he lived in Florence, sing: 

“Oh, to be in England 
Now that April’s there. . . . 


“And after April, when May follows. 

And the whitethroat builds, and all the swallows . . .” 

Margaret said the words to herself as the day greeted 
her when she pulled up her blind in the morning. 

London, even in war time, was inviting and charming for 
such as drove about the West End in taxis, for they had 
not yet disappeared from the highways and byways. The 
day was clean and fresh and sweet-smelling. The promise 
of brilliant sunshine in the midday hours made the fash- 
ionable streets near the Iretons’ rooms very busy and gay. 
Khaki-clad flgures were everywhere ; some were accom- 
panied by daintily-clad girls, proud of their soldier lovers ; 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


495 


others were walking with portly old gentlemen, their gen- 
erous grandfathers or godfathers, most probably; while 
many of them had given themselves over to their mothers 
for the morning. Nor were they, as they would have been 
in the days of peace, embarrassed by their affectionate 
grasp of their arms and the unconcealed adoration and love. 

Things had happened with such bewildering rapidity that 
Margaret drove through the streets to the church in which 
they were to be married in a sort of open-eyed dream. She 
saw with extraordinary vividness all that was going on 
around her, even to the faces of the boys and girls who 
passed them in taxis ; but she was incapable of concentrated 
thought. The hurry and excitement in which she had lived 
for the last two days left her breathless and vague. 

She was driving with Michael Ireton, who was amazed at 
her outward calm. He little knew that the bride whom he 
was to give away was physically and nervously almost ex- 
hausted. The sudden end of the strain which she had en- 
dured so long had produced a dreamlike phase of almost 
semi-consciousness. 

Margaret knew that Michael was ahead of her, in another 
taxi with Hadassah. She also knew that they were driving 
to the church with the outside pulpit which stands a little 
way back from the road in Piccadilly. She had always felt 
a special attraction for the quiet courtyard, right in the 
hurly-burly of one of the main arteries of London. She 
knew that she would have to say her responses in the mar- 
riage-service. Yet somehow she felt more like another per- 
son looking on from a great distance at the doings of some- 
one else. One would feel the same remoteness if one was 
saying to oneself, ‘‘At this very moment Margaret will be 
getting married, she will be on her way to the church.” 

“Here we are,” Michael Ireton said abruptly. 

The taxi had stopped at the iron gate in the centre of the 
railings which guarded the precincts of the church. He 
jumped out quickly and Margaret followed him. In the 


496 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


porch of the church they stopped for a moment, to make 
sure of the fact that Michael was waiting to receive Mar- 
garet at the chancel steps. Then, still in a dream-state, 
Margaret walked up the aisle of the church on Michael 
Ireton’s arm. She was not nervous ; things were too unreal 
for her to be conscious of being nervous. 

A few idle Londoners, seeing that there was going to be 
a wedding, had strayed into the church; otherwise it was 
empty. Michael thought it rather dark and solemn. 

Margaret was daintily dressed in white, a frock suitable 
for travelling. Michael was still in his Tommy’s uniform. 

Nothing could have been simpler than the service which 
made them man and wife, or more unlike what Margaret’s 
aunts would have considered suitable for their niece. It was 
a wedding after Michael’s and Margaret’s own hearts, a 
solemn sacrament of two people, not a society gathering of 
critical guests. 

It was not until Michael took Margaret’s hand in his, and 
pressed it eagerly and firmly, with an air of happy posses- 
sion, that Margaret came to her full consciousness and to 
the significance of what she was doing. She had repeated 
her vows after the clergyman clearly and correctly ; she had 
even said will” because her subconscious mind had im- 
pelled her to say it. The importance of the words had es- 
caped her. It had been only her material body which stood 
by her lover’s side. 

Michael felt her air of aloofness, her distance. Her eyes 
had not met his when he had sought them, eager to welcome 
her. She had walked up the aisle and taken her place by his 
side like a spirit-woman, who was a stranger to him. 

When at last his strong hand clasped hers, she looked 
up. Their eyes met. A long sigh travelled from Mar- 
garet’s awakening heart to her lips. Michael felt her emo- 
tion. He held her hand more possessingly, as he said, very 
clearly : 

‘T, Michael Amory, take thee, Margaret Lampton, to be 
my wedded wife.” 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


497 


He tightened his grasp on her hand. Its dearness and 
magnetism affected her. Her feeling of somnolence van- 
ished. Things became real, tremendously real and won- 
derful. 

Michael was saying the words, ‘Ho love and to cherish 
until death us do part.” 

At the word “death” MargarePs throat tightened. 
Something seemed to almost choke her. The words made 
her visualize the blood-soaked fields of Flanders. Weak 
tears filled her eyes; the loudness of her heart’s beating 
made Michael’s next vow, “according to God’s holy ordi- 
nance,” almost inaudible. The din of battle thundered in 
her brain. Death was going to part them almost directly ; 
it was standing behind them now ; it had been coming near- 
er and nearer for the last four months; it was only waiting 
until Michael had left her, until she was no longer near 
him. Like an avalanche crushing down upon her from a 
great height, the terror of death swept over her. Just as a 
shot from a rifie, or the vibration of a body of men march- 
ing under a precipice of loosened snow, will bring it down 
and cover them, the words “until death us do part” had 
overwhelmed Margaret. 

Then a strange thing happened. As Michael said proud- 
ly and distinctly, “And thereto I give thee my troth,” 
Margaret saw that he was surrounded by a brilliant light. 
He stood in the centre of long shafts of sunshine; they 
played round his head like the rays of Aton. Her terror 
of death vanished as swiftly as it had come. This was the 
light which guarded Michael in battle. A super-elation 
dispersed the thought of the brief married life which might 
be hers, that she might be stepping into widowhood even 
while she repeated her vows. 

Bewilderment made her forget her part in the ceremony. 
She felt, but did not see the clergyman take her hand from 
Michael’s. He separated them for a moment and then put 
her hand on top of Michael’s. He whispered something 
to her. Then she remembered her part, and said slowly and 

32 


498 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


clearly after him the same words which Michael had re- 
peated. The words ‘‘until death us do part” were said as 
she might have said them in pre-war days. 

After that she was free from all nervousness and all 
sense of unreality. She saw Michael take the ring from the 
clergyman’s fingers and hold it in his own hand. She 
smiled to him happily, as she saw his expression of relief 
and tenderness. In one moment more they would be man 
and wife; no distance or grief could change that. 

When they knelt together for the first time as man and 
wife, and listened to the words of the beautiful prayer that 
they might “ever remain in perfect love and peace to- 
gether,” Margaret’s happiness made her prayer a song of 
praise. If it was ordained that Michael was to be spared 
to her, how simple and natural a thing it would be for ever 
to remain in perfect love and peace together ! Loving each 
other as they did, that would not be one of their difficul- 
ties. It was so restful to kneel side by side with Michael, 
listening to the gentle and solemn words, that she would 
have liked the prayer to go on for a long time. Her nerv- 
ous condition made her apprehensive. Here, in the quiet 
church, which lay right in the heart-beat of the city, there 
was a divine sense of security. 

Their heads were bent together; their arms were almost 
touching; their heart-beats were in unison; their minds 
were one. 

But the prayer was finished. Michael’s hand had clasped 
hers again; he was far more conscious of his part in the 
ceremony than she was of hers. He held her hand as if it 
was his world, the kingdom he had come into, while his 
eyes expressed his emotion and gratitude. 

As the words “Those whom God hath joined together let 
no man put asunder,” and “I pronounce you man and 
wife,” echoed through the chancel, Michael Ireton and 
Hadassah gave a pent-up sigh of relief. 

When the clergyman turned to the altar and read aloud 
the sixty-seventh Psalm — Michael had requested it in 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


499 


preference to the hundred and twenty-eighth, which is per- 
haps the more usual- — Hadassah saw the bride and bride- 
groom smile happily to each other. They smiled, because 
Michael had often read the Psalm to Margaret and re- 
marked on its similarity to the prayers of Akhnaton. 

‘^God be merciful unto us, and bless us ; and show us the 
light of His countenance, and be merciful unto us; 

‘‘That Thy way may be known upon earth: Thy sav- 
ing health among all nations. 

“Let the people praise Thee, O God : yea, let all the peo- 
ple praise Thee. 

“O let the nations rejoice and be glad: for Thou shalt 
judge the folk righteously, and govern the nations upon 
earth. 

“Let the people praise Thee, O God: yea, let all the 
people praise Thee.’^ 

“Thou shalt govern the nations upon earth.” That had 
been Akhnaton’s mission, to preach these words, to tell the 
people that God, and man’s understanding of His Love, 
must rule the world. 

“Then shall the earth bring forth her increase: and God, 
even our own God, shall give us His blessing.” 

Akhnaton had sung his Hymn of Praise in his temples 
and in his pleasure-courts of his city in almost the very 
same words. 

Confident that righteousness would triumph, that God’s 
world-kingdom had come, he suffered the wrath of his 
military commanders, who were watching the breaking-up 
of his kingdom in far-off Syria. 

Two hours later the bride and the bridegroom, the two 
happiest people in London, drove away from the Iretons’ 
rooms in Clarges Street. Hadassah and Michael Ireton 
watched them until the taxi was out of sight. As they 
turned into the hall, with something very like tears in her 
eyes — for even in the happiest marriages there is the qual- 


500 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


ity of tears — Michael put his arms round his wife and drew 
her to him. As she looked up into his rugged face, his 
eyes more than his words said : 

‘We know how they feel, dearest ! God bless them ! Such 
happiness makes one weep in these days.” 

Hadassah pressed her dark head against his coat-sleeve. 
He held her closely ; each day she was more precious in his 
sight. 

“They are worthy of each other.” His voice broke. 
“Really, when one sees such happiness, one says to oneself, 
even if they have only a fortnight together, it is a great 
deal, a wonderful thing.” 

Hadassah looked at her husband searchingly. “Somehow 
Fve no fear for Michael — ^have you.^” 

Michael Ireton thought before he answered. “No, I 
don’t think I have.” 

“There is a certain something about some people that 
makes one either afraid or not afraid for them — the men 
going to the Front, I mean. For Michael Amory I haven’t 
any fear. I can’t explain why — it’s not that he will save 
himself by caution.” She laughed. 

“I know,” her husband said. “Michael seems extraor- 
dinarily lucky. He told me a few things last night, of 
the escapes which he daren’t tell Margaret, ghastly adven- 
tures. I’m afraid he’s awfully rash. Like all Irishmen, 
when his blood’s up, he hasn’t any conception of the dan- 
ger he’s facing. He has the super-bravery of the Celt, and 
all his recklessness.” 

“I just hope that as a married man he will keep that 
supernatural nerve. A wife often destroys it.” 

“I know,” Michael Ireton said. “One sees it so often — 
No wife, no danger — a wife at home, more caution, less 
nerve.” 

Hadassah was silent. Her husband’s arms were still 
round her. He kissed her passionately. 

“I feel like a bridegroom myself ! Seeing Michael stand- 


THERE WAS A KING IN EGYPT 


601 


ing there waiting for Margaret brought our wedding-day 
back to me.’’ His eyes . caressed her. 

^‘Did you notice the wonderful light that suddenly sur- 
rounded them just as Michael took Margaret’s hand in his, 
when he said, ‘And thereto I give thee my troth’ The 
church had been rather dark and dreary up to then ; all at 
once the sun streamed right down on them. It was really 
quite extraordinary, just as if an unseen hand had turned 
on the limelight. It was almost uncanny.” 

“I noticed it,” Michael said. 

“The effect was startling. I wondered if Margaret no- 
ticed it — it surely was a happy omen.?^” 

Her husband smiled into her eyes. “I feel sure that Mi- 
chael’s subconscious self would be saying the grand words 
of his beloved Akhnaton: 

“ ‘Thou bindest them by Thy love. 

Though Thou art afar, Thy rays are upon earth; 

Though Thou art on high, Thy footprints are the day.’ ” 


FINIS 


THE FANTOMAS 
DETECTIVE NOVELS 

By 

PIERRE SOUVESTRE 

AND 

MARCEL ALLAIN 

The Fantomas Detective Novels may 
be recommended to all as really 
absorbing and entertaining Fiction. 

12 mo, cloth, $1.50 each, 

1. FANTOMAS 

“By far the best detective story that I have read for 
a very long time.” — C. K. S., in the Sphere, 

2 . THE EXPLOITS OF JUVE 

“It kept me up an hour and a half after my ap- 
pointed bedtime.” — Punch, 

3. MESSENGERS OF EVIL 

“We can promise the reader an evening freed from 
war-fever by its perusal .” — Church Times, 

4. A NEST OF SPIES 

The thrilling adventures of Detective Juve and his 
friend Fandor in pursuit of the elusive Fantdmas. 

5. A ROYAL PRISONER 

On the trail of Fantdmas. 

Other Volumes in Preparation, 





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V. 

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